


Heartbeat Faster

by Hells_Ice_Heavens_Fire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Genderqueer Character, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Magical Bond, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Minor Character Death, Multilingual Characters, Necromancy, Reincarnation, Roman Myths, Seer Harry Potter, Smart Ron Weasley, Soulmates, War, happy-ish ending, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 132,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hells_Ice_Heavens_Fire/pseuds/Hells_Ice_Heavens_Fire
Summary: The Dark Lord Voldemort has regained his body and Harry Potter has returned to the muggle world, a sitting duck. Badly injured, the Order of the Phoenix bring him to their new headquarters, where old and new friends alike await his recovery. The second war is starting and it's not going to be a spectator sport.Formerly known as “Enternity” on FFN, this is the revised and complete fic posted here for archive purposes.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, The Weasley Family - Relationship
Comments: 31
Kudos: 211
Collections: He was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, 
> 
> Sorry to delay your reading of the fic itself with this note, but I figured it was important to note so here it is. 
> 
> The author of this fanfic is deceased. The last chapter of this fic is the beginning of the last chapter and then her notes for how the rest of it was to end. The notes are very detailed so do not fret about leaving this on an unfinished note, even though she is dead. I am posting this here as her fannish next of kin.
> 
> This was originally posted on FFN from the time Jewles (the original author) was finishing high school through to her college years and then a few years post college when she was in the professional world. It has a different title and summary there, as when she originally posted this fic she only had a vague idea about what was going to happen in it. The title she originally picked was also not one that was supposed to actually BE the title – apparently, she had deliberately misspelled the title to remind herself that was it's working title and to change it but was so excited to get the first chapter out that she forgot it was a misspelling and posted it with the incorrect name. This fanfic also differs from the one up on FFN because near the end, when she was going in and out of hospital stays, she edited some of the early chapters to better fit with where the story and her writing went as she aged and evolved. So, for the people coming here from the FFN fic, there have been some small edits. For once thing, a lot of the earlier chapters have been merged to make this a 20 chapter fic as opposed to a 22 chapter one. 
> 
> As the author for this fic is deceased, if you do not want to leave comments, feel free not to. But, if you do, all I ask is that you remember that this author is dead and her wife sometimes reads the comments when she misses her wife, to see that her writing is still living on. 
> 
> Now, without any more delay, the fic:

Harry had come to the conclusion that somebody must be laughing at him. He had been very patient this summer; he didn’t attack Dudley or his friends, he didn’t talk back to his Aunt, and he didn’t do anything even remotely disrespectful to his Uncle. And yet, here he was.

He was on the ground in fetal position as his uncle kicked the crap out of his staved body. He was having trouble breathing, no doubt his ribs had broken and pierced something. There were bits of carpet burn that he could feel from having this skin rubbed raw against it earlier and it was sticking to the open wound on his upper leg. He couldn't feel his toes, which was probably not a good sign.

“You’re nothing, worthless! No one is coming to save you; your freaks aren’t going to ever push you into my home again! You're going to die and I'm going to laugh.” His uncle tried to sound menacing, and from a perspective that wasn’t Harry’s, he supposed he did. The tone made Harry want to rip his tongue out. The rage was a warm star under his heart, keeping his blood thrumming through him and his magic flowing through him.

He had no doubt that if he didn't have magic in him, he would be dead already.

He thought he heard his aunt scream, thought he saw an enraged Sirius Black crash through the doors, wand at the ready…still, he was positive that he saw nothing but darkness afterwards.

* * *

The Order Headquarters was quiet. Currently, Lucius and Draco Malfoy were being questioned in the other room, while Hermione and Ron stayed close by. The twins and Ginny were asleep, which was understandable, as it was very early in the morning.

The father and son had been brought in by Severus Snape, who claimed the Dark Lord tried to kill them. Thus, a mini-trial was being held. From what they could hear – or rather, not hear – it was going well; the two teens heard the whole beginning of the improvised trial. They had to admit, it sounded to them, at least, that Draco Malfoy was telling the truth. They couldn’t read his father quite as well, but that wasn’t the topic of tonight’s discussion.

From where Hermione was curled with her head pillowed on Ron’s lap – his hands running through her hair – she looked up at him, speaking softly in Korean. Both knew that none of the Order members knew that particular language.

“Seems Harry was right again. _A change will come about involving Draco Malfoy._ Damn, that’s just not fair.” Harry had predicted last year that something like this would happen, and after four years of friendship, the two were convinced that Harry was a better Seer than their divination professor.

They talked about this and that, digressing off topic before returning to it. They finally decided that they would treat the younger Malfoy based on how he treated them from this day forward. If he was hostile towards them after this, then they'd go off of that.

“We really should look at Harry’s letter. We keep getting interrupted.” Ron said, waving the parchment in question as he spoke. Hermione moved so she was leaning against his shoulder, both of them holding an end of the parchment as they unraveled it.

“There is no ‘dear’…doesn’t use anybody’s name, ‘you guys, you people’…the content isn’t like Harry at all.” Ron was alarmed now. He looked at Hermione, who grabbed the letter from him as she stood up to pace. She always thought better on the move.

“Rigid, not flowing…messy, not sloppy…This wasn’t written by Harry. Any amateur could see that – we really _should_ have read this sooner.” Hermione said hotly.

“Go upstairs and get those rings.” Last year, when Hermione had bought some muggle mood rings for the trio, she and Ron had charmed both of theirs to show what physical/mental shape Harry was in. It didn't work for a lot – honestly, the most it did was give them the ability to check if his heart was beating at a normal rate – but it gave them peace of mind. Under normal circumstances, the rings were translucent.

(When the portkey had taken Harry and Cedric during the third task, the rings had been useless because Harry hadn't been wearing his. It wasn't until the end of the year, when Harry would be locked away at the Dursleys, that Hermione and Ron managed to talk Harry into wearing and keeping it on for the summer. She never wanted to be in a position where she didn't know if Harry was dead or alive every again.)

Ron retrieved the rings and came back down.

“We have to talk to the Order. Now. The rings are black.” For a full span of two seconds, the two teens simply looked at each other, feeling helpless and child-like. For a full span of two seconds, they were terrified out of their minds. What did it mean that they were black? Did that mean Harry's heart had stopped? Or was it just slowed dangerously? If Harry was _dead_ , would the rings be black or would the charm break to show that?

Hermione threw the door separating them and the Order open with a bang.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley! We are in the middle of a -” Professor McGonagall was abruptly cut off by Ron.

“Harry’s in danger.” The statement seemed to capture everyone’s attention. Hermione explained about the letter and the rings in her calm, yet efficient manner. She told them that she wasn't exactly sure what black meant, but she was sure that her near hysterical voice conveyed her fears. Mrs. Weasley grabbed the younger Malfoy, and kicked out all three of the teens. The door was then slammed shut and warded.

“Is it really that bad?” Malfoy’s voice was soft, yet distantly cold.

“It would make sense for black to mean near death. If he were dead, I feel like the charms would just break, because they'd be without an anchor.” Ron said, hopeful. No one said much after that. A few minutes later, when the Order was leaving to confirm Hermione and Ron’s claims, the three had sat down with a board of Chinese checkers between them.

Almost an hour later, the Order came back and appeared as if ready to commit mass murder. Sirius looked near homicidal, even as tears flowed down his face; Snape shouted for Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore as he rushed by them. He was holding what could only be Harry's limp body, all his normal glamours and magic gone, leaving his hair a tangled long mess. It was the only part of him that they could make out before they were all shooed out of the way. Madam Pomfrey's magic seemed to slam against the walls of the room as Hermione stood outside the closed door, staring at it as if that alone would make the door open so she could see for himself what the state of her best friend was.

The twins and Ginny came downstairs cautiously, full of questions about the noise, but they were distracted from getting any answers when Molly Weasley started bellowing in another room.

The twins regarded Draco Malfoy for a short moment, clearly decided that there was more important things to be curious about, and turned to Hermione for answers. When she didn't turn to even glance at them, they turned their looks to Ron.

“What happened?” They asked, voices blending into one.

“Hermione and I had reason to believe that Harry was in danger and it was deemed credible. The Order sent some people out about an hour ago to check and they have brought him back. From what we could see, he doesn't look good. Malfoy is here because he and his father are...switching sides? I guess? I know that they were attacked in their house by that old fucker-who-we-do-not-name.” Ron explained

“The Dark Lord murdered my mother.” Malfoy said quietly.

“Oh.” The twins said, clearly not sure what to say to that.

“And Harry? Was Harry attacked by Death Easters?” Ginny asked, clearly not wanting to talk about Malfoy and his problems.

“Doubt it.” Hermione said, finally pulling her gaze away from the door. “It was most likely his relatives.” She finished.

“What.” Ginny did not phrase that as a question, but a hard statement.

“His...what?” Malfoy said in confusion, like the very idea was too much for him to even wrap his mind around. Considering he was the pureblood heir of an old clan, child abuse probably wasn't something he had a lot of reference for, if any. From what Ron knew of his parents, they fussed and spoiled him so much, so that was at least a nice thing to consider.

“How much torture is too much torture? Surely there's an allowable limit?” Ginny asked, twirling her wand absentmindedly. The tip lit up every time it pointed up, not quite a spark but enough to show that she was upset.

“Everything is allowable if you don't get caught.” Malfoy said and Ginny gave him a truly worrying grin.

* * *

“A new dawn, a new hope, a new face.” Ron recited a quote he often heard Harry say. His siblings and Malfoy all gave him blank looks. Hermione took a deep breath and lead the small group to the adults.

Molly Weasley gave them a small, strained smile. All the adults looked exhausted; Sirius still had blood on his clothes from where he had picked Harry up. Lucius Malfoy was writing something with quick, precise movements, his jaw notably tense. Remus was pacing, every now and again he'd pause to growl, and then resume his pacing.

“Harry is stable, finally; we almost lost him when his heart stopped beating. He’s in a coma right now, being fed nutrients through potions. Poppy says he can hear us, so if you want to talk to him you can.” Mrs. Weasley explained, her voice so gentle in a way that made Hermione want to scream. It was the voice she often heard when Harry was unconscious and she and Ron were not – the voice that meant they were being treated with kid gloves, fed only the most hopeful of news.

“What is going to become of the Dursleys?” Ginny asked. Her mother’s eyes hardened and she pursed her lips together. Hermione started to mentally compile her argument, arranging it quickly to hopefully get the honest truth. Next to her, she heard Ron take a breath, no doubt getting ready with his own arguments.

They were both halted when Remus whirled on them, fury rolling off of him in a wave. Hermione was impressed – she didn't think the older man _could_ get angry.

“The Ministry is refusing to do anything about it! They say Harry is a liar and won't accept any evidence! On top of it, they purposely moved his trail date to tomorrow, which he is obviously going to miss, _BECAUSE HE'S IN A_ COMA!” He roared and Sirius finally leaped up and shot a calming spell at Remus, then dragged him away with an apologetic look to everyone.

“They can’t do that! Father, can’t you do something?” Malfoy's voice obviously came as a shock to the remaining adults present.

“I’m trying, Draco, but there’s only so much I can do.”

* * *

Sleep did not come easy that night to one Draco Malfoy. He was frustrated, annoyed, outraged, and absolutely disgusted…on behalf of Harry Potter. He was frustrated because the Ministry was full of heathens that apparently condone severe child abuse. He was annoyed because obviously Albus Dumbledore **didn’t give a fuck** ; as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot he had a lot of power. Get a popular vote of incompetence and Fudge could be booted from office, then Potter could have political justice. His outrage came from much of the same thing.

It was his disgust that befuddled him. Sure, it was hideous what the muggles did, but what did he care about what happened to the sometimes strange, always annoying boy? They weren't friends, often weren't even friendly except in very rare situations (those usually involved younger students or Draco swallowing his pride and asking Potter for help in schoolwork, in the deep corners of the library where no one can find them) so why the disgust?

Because some muggles harmed a magical child? Because someone was hurt? Because he knew Potter, for all that they often fought, and that was scary?

~~Because his mother was dead and she would know why he was feeling like this, would help him find the words to make sense of it?~~

He rolled over and closed his eyes, wanting desperately to turn his brain off.

* * *

_A soft, light giggle bounced into his hearing. He opened his eyes, ready to growl at whoever had entered his room while he was asleep, then blinked in confusion. He was not in his room…in fact, he wasn’t even in the Order of the Phoenix’s headquarters anymore._

_He was in a field of flowers near a babbling brook with what looked like moonlight streaming down. The flowers were all sorts of colors, even some colors that should not have been on flowers, like blue-violet. A strange color that looked like a mix between black, yellow, and pink was also present on these flowers._

“ _That combination should not be possible.” He muttered to himself._

“ _Why not?” A gentle, almost feminine, voice asked from what sounded like right behind him. Draco turned and was met with Harry Potter’s curious face. The boy's hair was unbound and cascaded down his back, his eyes weren't hidden behind hideous spectacles, and from this close Draco could almost count the other's eyelashes. The boy before him was beautiful, unbroken, and free of the often oppressive magic he usually wore at school. His face was angled in a softer way than what Draco was used to, his cheekbones not as prominent and his ears barely peaking out from the dark strands of his hair._

“ _When did you get there? Where are we anyway?” He ignoring Potter’s question to ask a few of his own, backing away from the other boy as he spoke. Potter laughed again, the sound sending goose flesh up his arms._

“ _Limbo. The space between living and dying. Where did you think we were?”_

“ _Why are we here?” Draco asked, not even attempting to answer Potter's almost childish question._

“ _I’m here because I have no choice. You’re here because you want to be here.”_

“ _I don’t want to be here.” Draco denied, taking a chance to look around himself. The field stretched on as far as he could see and this had to be a dream._

“ _You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be; you’re not dying.”_

“ _Neither are you; they stabilized you!”_

“ _They stabilized my body.” Potter said and folded himself down to sit among the flowers. Potter wasn't looking at him, was looking down as he picked flowers, but for some reason Draco felt like they were in Hogwarts, wands out and ready to curse each other._

“ _Why word it that way?”_

“ _I am me. A body can be in perfect health, but that soul might not be in there. They stabilized my body, but I am not free to go to it yet.” Potter started to weave the flowers into a circlet, the stems bending together and the flowers overlapping against each other. Draco took a breath and squatted down, so he wasn't towering over Potter, feeling as if this conversation was getting away from him._

“ _Why not?”_

“ _I’m not healed. Thanatos wants me here.”_

“ _The Personification of Death?” Draco asked incredulously._

“ _The Demi-god of Death. The first person to serve Death.”_

“ _Demi-god?”_

“ _Halfling. Half god. Thanatos was a human; he fell in love with Hades and became a half god: thus, Demi-god.” Potter explained this as if he was explaining a basic arithmancy equation. It was as baffling as it was annoying._

“ _But…he’s the personification of Death.”_

“ _Yes. Not Death itself.”_

“ _Oh.”_

_Potter giggled again and put the circlet of flowers upon his head. The bright flowers stood out on his hair and something about the image seemed familiar, like a lullaby he knew by cadence but not words._

“ _You sound like a girl, Potter.”_

“ _So?”_

“ _You’re a guy.”_

“ _Your point?” Draco blinked. What was his point? Did it really matter which gender Potter acted as?_

“ _I don’t know.” He admitted._

_They lapsed into comfortable silence._

“ _Why are you being so civil?” Of course it was Draco that broke the silence._

“ _You’re normally the one who is nasty. My friends aren’t here for you to insult, so there is no reason to be nasty to you.”_

“ _But I’ve insulted you by yourself tons of times.”_

“ _By insulting my friends. I don’t care if you insult me. I insult you too, sometimes, it doesn't really bother me.”_

“ _Oh.”_

“ _You’re waking up.”_

“ _So, I am dreaming?”_

“ _No.”_

* * *

Draco woke up with a yawn, sitting up in his bed. He was in the room he feel asleep in, with no signs that he had been anywhere. He felt…nice; like all his frustration and annoyance from yesterday was gone. Who knew he’d feel so…nice…from talking to Potter?

Wasn’t there a better word than “nice”?


	2. Chapter 2

“ _I had every intention of continuing my entry last night, but fell asleep before I had a chance to lie down. The sea air can do that, Mrs. Carstairs tells me…_ ” Ginny stopped her reading to smooth Harry’s bangs back. His hair was getting a little brittle at the tips, probably from the nutrient potions he was having magicked into his stomach as he lay unconscious.

“See Harry, I’m reading this book. You recommended it for me and you were right: I do like it. I read it before I go to sleep and, obviously, to you as you lie here. Sirius is really worried about you. So are Mum and Dad…and the rest.” Ginny placed a bookmark in her book as her older brothers came into the room.

“Dad and Professor Dumbledore came back from the Ministry. They say that between the Headmaster and Lord Malfoy, they managed to get Harry a proper verdict. He’s innocent.” Ron said as he came to sit down at the foot of Harry's bed. “How's he doing today?”

“Good; they're going to stop magicking potions into his stomach soon and say he might be ready to wake up a little after that. They're not sure about how much his body will recover and how – there was some talk about how they might have completely corrected his eyes when they fixed his cheekbones. They won't know for sure until he's awake though, it might be a temporary thing.” She said.

Fred and George hovered near the fall wall, looking unsure as to what they should be doing. She sympathized – they were all worried but staring at Harry's body wouldn't help speed things along.

“I know his eyes were super sensitive to light – maybe at the very least they fixed that permanently.” One of the twins said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Ginny answered and picked the book back up.

* * *

Draco was in the Black library reading up on demi-gods, being in limbo, and magical bonds. Potter had been telling him the truth the night before. And as Draco had never read anything on those topics it meant that he really _had_ been pulled into limbo with Potter…which was only possible if he was somehow connected to the other boy.

He’d narrowed it down to a couple of connections or bonds that could connect the two. The first one was “comitis,” the bond of friendship. This bond occurred between, obviously, friends that had magical strength. It can also connect two people who are _about_ to become friends; thus the reason it wasn’t omitted.

The second one was “gelyn;” the bond of enemies. From what Draco had read of it the bond was something that formed by the hatred that coursed through your magic when you hated someone; when you had an enemy. He wasn't sure that was entirely correct, as he didn't think he had it in him to hate to that level – or at least, he didn't think he had it in him to hate to that level someone who he then had to live with for the majority of the year. The kind of hatred needed for that kind of bond was the kind that twisted your magic inside of you, the kind that lit your blood afire and could power any number of dark curses – including the torture curse.

He could bring himself to hate like that, he thought, but....he didn't think he would be able to then _ignore_ that person to let them live. He had never harmed anyone seriously, certainly never killed anyone, but he was familiar enough with himself to know that if he hated someone enough that it affected his magic, that would not be a simmering kind of hate. It would be explosive, world changing, and burn its targets to ash and shadow. 

~~(There was something about this bond, too, that made him feel...something. Something like nostalgia or a half remembered dream.)~~

The third one were bonds of love. There were many names to go to the many types of specific love bonds. Sibling love, Light love, Dark love, fleeting love, obsessive love, the list went on. And for those, much like the comitis bond, were equally possible before and after the connection was established. The eleven year old boy in him, the one that had held his hand out and _wanted_ so much, liked the idea of a love bond between him and Potter. The practical part of him liked it because it wasn't as frightening as the gelyn bond. 

He remembered standing before Potter, holding his hand out, and when it wasn't taken he remembered the way he felt. That single moment had felt like the moment a branch breaks under your weight; the split second before gravity grabs you when a broom doesn't listen and you plummet. It was...it hurt a soft part of him and he'd never quite recovered from it, not correctly at least. Blaise thought that rejection was the basis of his almost obsessive rivalry with Potter, but he wasn't right – he and Potter were like magnets most of the time, they just rejected each other.

It didn't have anything to do with the rejection, the almost path they could have had.

Draco closed the books on love and bonds, on impossibilities and wishes, and went to go find his father. It was about the time for another round of interrogation from the Order of the Phoenix. He just hoped this time it wouldn't be so fucking  _boring_ . 

* * *

_The wind blew through the trees behind him. It sang with the flowers beneath his feet and danced with his hair. The river laughed as it rode the currents. The very air he breathed seemed to dance its way through his lungs._

_Draco sighed; why did Potter’s limbo look like this? According to the books he’d read, Limbo usually was just a dark abyss._

“ _Thanatos likes me here. Therefore, this space can look like anything I desire. And call me Harry, please.”_

_Draco turned around to look at the speaker. Harry Potter smiled, walking past him to the river, his feet wrapped in soft looking fabric. The skirt of the dress he was wearing brushed his knees, showing off legs that looked scratched and scarred in some places. The thin cording keeping the dress up sparkled in the light._

“ _What are you wearing?” Draco asked, curious at the ensemble._

“ _A muggle sundress.”_

“ _No shit. I was more meaning **why**. You do this at school sometimes too, wear the girl's uniform, but I've never heard you correct anyone when they call you “he” or “him”.” Draco commented. Potter turned to look at him from his place in the river – his feet were submerged up past his ankles. _

“ _Yes. I was playing a game before you came. And of course I never corrected them, they're not wrong to call me a boy.”_

“ _A game?” Draco asked, deciding not to even touch the comments about Potter's pronouns._

_A smile, those emerald eyes shinning with what looked like laughter. His smile was a little crocked around the left edge, where a tiny slice of a scar cut through his top lip._

_They talked next to that river for hours, talking about so many things. For some reason, Draco felt compelled to just set aside any warnings he felt about basically spilling his heart out to Harry Potter, a boy who he’d scorned for as long as he’d known him. It was hard for him to lie, here, if not downright impossible the few times he tried it._

_It took him more time then he was willing to to admit to notice that whenever Harry didn't want to talk about something, he changed the subject or answered questions in a roundabout fashion that didn't actually answer anything. It was a rather cunning solution to the fact that here, in this strange in between, lying didn't seem to be something allowable._

_It was almost as calming as speaking to his mother._

_Almost._

* * *

He woke to fingers brushing his hair back from his face, the soft thrum of his father's magic dancing at the edges of his awareness. His father was sitting at the edge of his bed, dressed down as if he couldn't have been bothered to stay away long enough to get fully dressed for the day before seeing him. It reminded him of his childhood, before he started Hogwarts, when after strange and sad dreams he would wake to his father in his room, ready with a warm hug and a cup of tea.

He had a moment of disorientation, expecting to see his mother nearby, before he remembered why he would never see her again.

“I think we need to talk.” His father said quietly and Draco dragged himself into a sitting position so he could at least look at his father more directly. Sitting up, he was more at a similar height as the man and he wondered if soon he would be as tall as his father was. As a young boy, Lucius Malfoy had seemed like a giant, but as a teenager he just seemed...normal. Of average height, maybe slightly smaller than others.

There was a part of Draco that knew he'd always see his father as a giant though. Something to strive for, something to live up to, and maybe even something to overcome.

“About what? What time is it?” Draco asked, instead of letting those kind of thoughts continue.

“A little after eight in the morning. As to what we need to talk about…” His father looked up when the door opened. Severus Snape came in, saw the look Lucius was giving him, and promptly cast Silencing Charms and Anti-listening Charms on the door. That was probably not a good sign.

“We saw what you were researching.” His godfather said.

~~Was he still is _godfather_ if his mother was dead? Was he more like his second father, his third parent, now that Lucius was free to follow his heart and magic, not his vows to his family and wife? Did it really even matter at this stage in their lives?~~

“Father, I can explain about that -” Lucius held a hand up to silence his son.

“I understand. Which is why we’re having this conversation. Draco, your mother is gone and I know that hurts, but you can not bring her back.”

Draco blinked a few times. What was his father talking about?

“And even if you could, you would not be bring your mother back, Draco, it would be something else.” Severus added, laying a hand on Draco’s leg. He was confused…where had they gotten this idea from? He knew what the costs of Necromancy where for someone who wasn't born a necromancer. His mother was a _Black_ , he knew the costs and consequences of messing with the dead. 

“I know some of the tales your mother used to read to you had the heroes summoning a lost one or loved one using the strength of their love, or a magical bond, and the help of a god; but such a thing is taboo for a reason in reality. They won’t come back like they do in the stories. Do you understand, Draco? It wouldn’t be worth it.” Realization set in at the mentions of bonds. They saw the books he’d been reading and thought he was trying to bring his mother back. They didn’t know about Harry, or his dreams.

And why would they? He hadn't told a single person about them and the only other one who might know about them, was Harry himself. And he clearly wasn't in any position to mention them to anyone else.

“I understand, Father…it’s just so hard sometimes. I miss her. Not that you and Severus aren’t absolutely wonderful, it’s just that…I miss her.” Well, he wasn’t in Slytherin for nothing after all.

* * *

Ginny was neither stupid, clueless, nor naïve. She just let a choice few people think that about her. She had seen signs that things weren't alright with Harry, pretty much from the moment she met the older boy when she was 11, about to go into Hogwarts and join her brothers finally. She had seen the odd bruise, the crocked fingers from broken healing, the wary way he always looked at people who yelled and waved their arms about, the utterly still way he held himself when he felt threatened. She had heard the comments, had known about the bars on his windows, had helped smuggle food to him a few summers, just like her brothers and Hermione.

She felt a little responsible for his condition, she could admit that to herself. She could have done more, they all could have, but they didn't and now...

Harry had been her first childhood crush, her friend, her teacher, her go-to person, a family member, and the person to introduce her to Luna Lovegood.

Harry had met Luna in his third year, Ginny’s second year. Luna had been mute then, and had been, ever since she was nine and saw her mother die. Harry met Luna the same way he got to know Hermione: by protecting her from older, “more mature” students at Hogwarts. Luna was a unique person, special, and mute. She made “weird” things in her free time and never talked. Someone found out about her mother and decided to cruelly tease her about it, and everyone else just played along.

Hermione was much the same way apparently. Everyone made fun of her because not only was she muggle-born, but she was a bookworm. She had “buck teeth”, “bushy hair”, talked too fast and too much, could read and recite a textbook like it was her own name, and she didn't like talking about makeup or hair potions like her roommates. When other girls in her dorm were talking about first crushes, she mentioned historical figures and legends, not fellow boys in their year. When the boys talked about Quidditch and games, she asked questions about rules and safety features.

But then Harry came.

To Hermione he sang her songs, talked with her about theory and books, made people leave her alone if he was around, saved her life from a troll, and introduced her to Ron Weasley. Harry became her friend and stayed her friend through thick and thin, and she repaid him by doing the same.

He did much the same thing with Luna. She was being teased. He happened upon her, told her tormentors to leave her be, and offered her kind words. She gave him a necklace that she made herself and he put it on. He asked her name, she didn’t say anything. Instead of thinking her ungrateful, he introduced himself and asked if she wanted to go to the library with him. From there, they started a friendship. For the first week, he called her Kamala, saying she reminded him of lotus flowers. He eventually got her to write her name down, and would only call her Kamala if she was upset.

Then, he introduced Luna and Ginny to each other.

The two girls hit it off immediately and Luna didn’t need to rely on Harry as much anymore; Ginny stopped crushing on boys who reminded her of Harry subconsciously. She stopped staring at girls who reminded her of Hermione.

That summer was difficult for Ginny, the World Cup aside. She felt smoldering hot, then freezing cold all the time. It was like she was having hot flashes! She had nightmares about Tom Riddles' voice in her head, about waking up covered in sticky residue on cold stone, and nothing she did chased them away. She spend hours outside, looking in the direction of Luna's house and knowing that if she could just get her feet to walk her to the Lovegood's door, things would be better. She spend days writing and burning letters to Luna, over and over, until Ron or Charlie got tired of it and stole them to send them off themselves.

She wrote letters to Harry, got a few back, and spent early mornings with Bill, talking about possession and magical drainage. She played Quidditch with her brothers and was happy, she flew by herself and was sad, and she was so confused half the time. It as like she couldn't figure out how to regulate her own emotions anymore.

At the World Cup, she actually felt like things were going back to normal, until the Death Eaters came. She had ran through the trees, her heart in her throat, and when she had found Luna she gripped the other girl's hand tight and _knew_ , with utter certainty, that if anyone wanted to harm Luna, she would feed them their internal organs. She reviewed every way she knew of to do it, mentally going over some of the things that Bill's friends and co-workers had told her during that trip to Egypt. She dragged memories of Tom Riddle's musings about ethics, about spell theory, about allowable damage in dire straights to the forefront of her mind and did not let his voice chill her, did not let the memory of his handwriting frighten her. 

She held Luna's hand and felt invincible. 

When she got back to school, she felt normal again. Seeing Luna on the train was like...walking into a wall half asleep. Something in her brain clicked and she understood with a flash what had happened.

She had formed a magical bond with Luna. That...was actually pretty rare, considering her age and the short time frame that it had taken to form. But all the signs pointed to it being true and when she did some more research, she became even more convinced. Doing more research on it also made her feel better about the situation – it wasn't as scary when she had facts and academic papers to look over. Magical bonds weren't guarantees, they weren't promises, they were possibilities at most and hard work to maintain.

And if not for Harry, would Ginny have met Luna so quickly? Would their relationship be the same if they had met under different circumstances? Harry introduced them and that was important to her.

It took all of Ginny’s third year to get Luna to talk. It took almost the whole year to coach the other girl into being comfortable with vocalizing, with giggling and laughing out loud. She never pushed, never demanded, was never disappointed or angry with Luna. She just wanted to help.

And the first word Luna said out loud since she was nine years old was barely a word at all. It wasn't anything grand or amazing and it wasn't even something that Ginny thought would happen. Not then at least.

Ginny had gathered her courage and kissed the other girl, as soft and gentle as she knew how, and she hadn't been thinking of Luna's speech at all during it. When she had pulled away, Luna's face was red and her eyes were full of wonder. And then she said a single word and it floored Ginny, utterly.

(It was “wow”. Of all the words to choose from, Ginny's not sure what else she would have expected, really.)

Over the summer, the two wrote to each other once every day. So it was natural to tell Luna what had happened to Harry, was natural to let her anger show in her letters. And somehow, someway, it had come to this.

Ginny held the letter in her hands, reading it again, not believing what she was seeing. Luna's father was a member of the Order and more than that, he was sending Luna to the headquarters for safekeeping. Luna had agreed to go to see Harry, to see Ginny.

Luna was going to be sharing Ginny and Hermione’s room.

How was Ginny going to convince Hermione to let the girls have some time to themselves without outing their relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes in first paragraph belong to the book Voyage on the Great Titanic: the diary of Margaret Ann Brandy from the Dear America book series. The quotes can be found on pages 78 and 79 in the Hardback copy.


	3. Chapter 3

_Almost every night, he was pulled into Limbo. Draco now knew things about Harry that he doubted many other people knew. Harry had a mother that did not give birth to him, but loved him enough that she starved to death from it; he was both a girl and a boy but didn't use gender neutral pronouns because it wasn't expected of him, after all, he was the **boy** who lived; he baked when he was stressed and at Hogwarts the head house elf let him use one oven if he went out into the forbidden forest and got them fresh fruit; and he hated people but loved children. _

“ _What are you thinking about?” Harry asked._

“ _Don’t you know?” Draco asked dryly. Another thing he had discovered – in this place, Harry could read every thought that went through either of their heads as easily as if he thought them himself._

_It wasn't as unsettling as it should have been._

“ _Yes, but I’d rather you talk to me.” Harry said softly, reaching down to trail his fingers through the grass they were sitting on, and he smiled at Draco. There was something…unsettling about that smile. Mocking, always mocking, and bitter._

_Draco opened his mouth, about to say whatever inane thing he could think of to get that expression off the other's face, when a snake slithered into view between them._

“ _ **Hello.**_ _” Harry had done this a few times around him. He’d see a snake, most likely one he wanted there, and he’d talk to it. In this place, it was almost as if Draco understood what he was saying. But just in feelings._

“ _ **Hello, Beloved of Thanatos**_ _.” He knew the snake addressed Harry by a term that had to do with Thanatos, because the Demi-god’s name felt cold._

“ _ **We noticed that you no longer have to be sung to sleep. Is there any particular reason why?**_ _” That had to do with sleep, Draco knew that because one of the words felt…sleepy. That was the only way to describe it._

“ _ **Some one is singing me lullabies on the other side**_ _.” That had to do with singing. Draco could tell because for a split second he could hear Harry’s singing. And after that exchange the snake simply vanished._

“ _Draco, Luna is there, right?”_

“ _Yes.”_

“ _She knows many old lullabies.”_

“ _Like what?”_

“ _Names no one now remembers, lyrics long forgotten, but the melody strong and clear. She seems like Ginny.”_

_Draco was confused. Luna seemed like Ginny…? Their conversations often went like this, and most of the time Harry wanted Draco to ask a question in a certain way or think about something different than he might otherwise._

_Harry told Draco things for reasons. Why was he telling Draco this?_

“ _Seems like Ginny how?”_

“ _Like how Mr. Weasley seems like Mrs. Weasley.”_

_How Arthur seems like…wait. They’re married, why would Luna seem like Ginny in that manner? They aren’t married._

“ _They aren’t just married, Draco.” Harry said, exasperated. Draco made a face at him and didn't bother trying to answer. If he thought Draco wasn't coming to the right conclusion, he could just try telling him. Like a normal, communicating human. “Luna seems like Ginny in the same way your father seems like Snape.”_

_Like Father seems like…wait._

“ _Are you telling me they are lovers?”Draco asked incredulously._

“ _Very good, Draco.”_

“ _Why tell me that?”_

“ _Because something is going to happen today, when you awaken, that involves that information. I didn’t want you to be startled.”_

“ _I know you are a Seer – by the norns, most of Slytherin house has figured it out by now – but I have to ask: by all the little gods, why are your Divination scores so low?”_

“ _What is a Seer but a word?” Harry placed a kiss to Draco’s cheek._

* * *

Draco’s eyes opened.

“You didn’t answer my bloody question!” He shouted into the silence of his room.

“Who didn’t answer your question?” His godfather's amused voice asked from the direction of his door.

“Ah, nobody. I was dreaming.” Draco moved out of his bed to go to his closet to look for some clothes. Luna is like Ginny like his Father is like Severus…How did Harry know that?

“Sev, do you think a lot of people know about your relationship with Father?” Draco asked as he looked between two shirts, trying to decide between them.

“I should hope not, otherwise that would make things a lot more difficult then they are. We’d be in even more danger if that were the case.” Blue or green? Which color…?

* * *

Luna ran her fingers through Harry’s hair, as she hummed a lullaby under her breath. Ginny was sitting across from them on another couch doing her homework. She was so beautiful, like a Thestral basking in the moonlight. Luna wondered how she’d look writhing underneath her, or above her panting. Would her beauty surpass the stars? Would her hair turn to lava and the pale skin of her throat shine like a lotus' petals?

“Luna, you’re bright red. What are you thinking about?” Ginny’s amused voice floated over to her. Luna could feel her face getting redder. Ginny prowled over, her eyes dark and heated, and Luna could feel a thrum in her veins at every step the other girl took.

“Thinking about me, by chance?” Ginny asked teasingly, leaning into Luna's space and trailing the tips of her fingers against the hollow of Luna's collarbone.

Luna thought about these things because the two of them had yet to have sex. They had been intimate with each other, sure, but they hadn’t had sex.

Luna didn't think she was ready for sex just yet, no matter how much she dreamed about it and loved the feel of Ginny against her. She remembered a rather embarrassing conversation with Harry, towards the end of the year, when she had finally managed to stumble her way through a question about sex between two girls. Harry had blinked at her – the only sign he ever gave when something had startled him – before he had a long, detailed conversation with her. He knew the mechanics of such an act, which she wasn't at all surprised by, but more than that he knew about relationships in general.

He had told her that one of the best ways to decide if she was ready for anything, not just the whole final act but anything beyond kissing really, was if she and Ginny could have a conversation about what they wanted to do together. A conversation that involved discussions of boundaries, about what kind of sexual acts – if any – were on the table and which weren't. The more he talked, the less embarrassed she was and the more thoughtful. It was still very embarrassing, but it wasn't the scary kind of embarrassment. She had always thought that sex was the most passionate act of love; but talking to Harry made her reconsider.

Sex was just...bodies. It could be wonderful and fun and good, but that was not the be-all-end-all of love. It could be used to do horrible things, things she didn't ever want to think about, and it could make things needlessly complicated. The more she thought about the things she had heard about Harry around the castle, the things she heard in general about people dating, the more she thought that she had been wrong about what the act of love was.

The most passionate act of love was speech, she felt. Talking about your viewpoints, likes, dislikes, fears, quirks, dreams, wants, everything. That was passion; that was love. Talking and listening to someone, getting to know them down to their magic and mind, that was love.

Wanting to be closer, to share herself with Ginny physically, that was just another type of communication. She wasn't ready for more, neither was Ginny she didn't think, and there wasn't any rush. She could lean forward and press their mouths together, could drink her in with sweet kisses and nipple at her lips, and it didn't _have_ to lead to anything more than what they were ready for. 

_(When she had finished her embarrassing-then-enlightening conversation with Harry, when he had gone off and she was walking back to her dorm room, she had a moment where she missed her mother so much it made her miss a step. She had stood still, staring at a crack in one of the tiles below her, and fiercely wanted her mother to be there, to ask her embarrassing and probing questions.)_

Ginny's hand curled around the back of Luna's neck and the door swung open, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape walking in. They both froze in the doorway and Ginny pulled away from her sharply.

* * *

Draco supposed that this was what Harry had meant. The two girls broke apart hastily, a light blush taking over their features. Severus ignored them, merely walking over to check on Harry. After doing his routine checks and recording the results, he walked out without a word.

“Hello Draco.” Luna Lovegood said quietly.

“Hi.” He answered, still caught on why Harry had bothered to try to warn him of this.

“You can’t tell my parents about this, or my family, or anyone!” Ginny Weasley said loudly, sounding more frightened than Draco thought was necessary. Draco arched an eyebrow at the girl.

“One has to wonder if you are, perhaps, ashamed by your sexuality and girlfriend.” Draco said cautiously, not truly wanting to start a fight. Lovegood looked down at her lap and Weasley took a threatening step forward.

“It’s not like that!” Weasley barked.

“Then what is it like? Because that’s what it looks like from this angle.” Draco said calmly, trying to show he wasn't being antagonistic. He was curious. He knew Weasley’s family loved her, so why would she hide something this important from them? Why did she feel the _need_ to hide something so harmless? He knew that the Weasley's were blood traitors, but surly they weren't _Catholics_ or something like that. He feels like he would have noticed something like that. None of them had ever said anything bigoted towards Parkinson based on her mothers nor had any of them ever protested any of the Death Day celebrations – didn't Harry drag Weasley's brother and Granger to one a few years ago?

“That’s not it at all. I will tell them, but when I’m ready. I love my family and I know they love me, but I still have insecurities. I don’t know how my parents think of homosexuality. Will they still love me? Will things be awkward? Until I have solid answers to these questions I will not tell them. And I’m not ashamed of who I am or the fact that I love Luna; I’m just not sure I want to broadcast that to the world. It’s not shame, it’s fear.”

Draco was rather shocked. What did that even _mean_?

“You don't know what they think.” Draco echoed. 

“You know what my parents are.” Weasley said quietly and Draco nodded. Everyone knew what they were – it wasn't a secret. And he supposed it _was_ a good thing to be concerned about – if her parents were against _some_ traditional views, who was to say where that ended? Sure, they only declared themselves against isolationism and the old gods, but who was to say that didn't stretch to attitudes towards same-sex relationships? Did they reject the gods because they believed in the monotheistic one or because their unknown roots were tied to a singular one? 

After all, no one knew where the Weasley's came from – just that they were a hidden clan. Their roots where a mystery, to keep them safe from their enemies, so who knew?

He wasn’t really sure when he had moved, but he had somehow migrated to standing right in front of Weasley with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry for making it sound that way. I was just curious.” Draco said honestly.

Before she could say anything to make the moment even more confusing, the door opened.

Sirius Black stepped through, looking extremely tired. Draco had caught him in the library a few times, which almost as many books as he himself went through to double check things Harry had said or implied in his limbo. He also knew that his...friend (Lover? _Husband_?) former Professor Lupin was also constantly by his side, looking and feeling wild and a hair away from something violent and final.

(Draco wondered what it said about him that it actually made him _like_ his former professor, to feel the wild magic of what could only be the wolf so close to the surface.)

“Hey, kids. Could you, you know, let me have some alone time with Harry?” Black asked with a tired – and forced – grin.

The three of them vacated the room almost before he finished asking them too.

* * *

Sirius watched the kids file out before carefully sitting down on Harry’s bed. Poppy had enlarged a couch to keep him on comfortably and no one dared to move him. The kids didn’t know it, but Harry had been very close to death. His body was as healed as it was going to get, but his soul just didn't seem to want to settle in it for any longer than a few hours at a time.

It wasn't a good sign.

Sirius was scared. He didn’t want to lose Harry; he was like the son he wished he and Remus could have. But of course the Ministry was full of prejudiced fuck heads, so that was never going to happen.

“Hey kiddo, it’s your godfather. I know I missed yesterday…it’s because I’ve been locked away with Remus. We’ve both been…angry. Not at you, of course, but at the Dursley’s. Angry is an understatement. We both want to torture them into insanity, then death, but enough about me.” Sirius gave a choked sound that could’ve been a chuckle in another life.

“I miss you, kiddo. A lot has been going on. I miss hearing your voice, seeing your calm smile, your singing, hell, I even miss that slightly depressed look in your eyes. Guess I know what that look is from now, huh?” Sirius sighed, reaching out to card his fingers through Harry’s hair. Under his skin, Harry's magic tingled at his touch. Sirius frowned, not know what to think about that, his godson's magic hadn't felt this steady in a long while.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us what they were doing to you? I knew you were happy when I asked you to come live with me, but I never thought…that’s beside the point. You did tell Hermione and Ron, though, but you made them swear you an oath. An actual oath, not just some childish promise. Mad-eye was proud of you for the idea, but pissed that you used it to keep something that bad from people who could help you. We could have helped you, Harry. We all care very much for you.” Sirius said, feeling wretched. He had thought that Harry's situation was more like Remus' than his – neglectful and cold, not outright abusive.

“Wake up soon, kiddo. School starts in a few days and I wanna talk to you before you have to leave. I love you, kiddo.” Sirius said and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Harry's brow. Under his lips, Harry's skin seemed a touch too warm. Sirius frowned and set his palm more firmly against Harry's forehead, checking for a fever. Sometimes, when Harry's soul would come “unstuck” as Poppy called it, his temperature would spike.

Harry was a little warm, but not dangerously so. Sirius waved his wand in a complicated pattern that he could do in his sleep now, the Gaelic phrase falling from his lips as easily as the cheering charm used to when he was a little younger than Harry was now. Magic settled around Harry, a soft blue color against his skin, and Sirius' eyes started to water at what that color meant.

His magic sunk in and Harry's eyes moved under the lids. Sirius held his breath, not daring to hope, sure he was dreaming.

“Sirius.” Harry whispered, his voice raspy from disuse. His godson's eyes opened, the emerald green bright in his face. He blinked slowly, his pupils dilating as they got used to the light.

“I love you, too.” Harry said slowly and Sirius had Harry in his arms before he knew what was happening, yelling wordlessly in joy. He could feel tears on his face, but didn't care.

* * *

After Harry woke up, the Order of the Phoenix immediately gathered to hold a full meeting concerning his situation.

‘ _How typical. Something happens and, oh heavenly Merlin, we have to talk about it!’_ Severus thought, feeling a tad bit annoyed.

“Yes, yes, we’re all happy that Potter is awake, but what about the Malfoys? Are you really going to keep them here, Albus? We can’t trust them, they’re Malfoys!” Arthur Weasley said, once again interrupting this meeting, about Potter, to talk about Lucius and Draco.

“Weasley, Albus already made them take the loyalty test; the same one all of us undertook. And, we already had a hearing, in this very room, about trusting them. I’m sure that your small brain can at least remember that.” Severus said caustically, sneering at the older man.

“That test obviously didn’t stop Pettigrew from betraying us last time around. Besides which, Draco Malfoy wasn’t tested, or did your small brain miss that part?” Weasley retorted. Severus arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed with his insult. His twin sons often had better insults for him by first period.

“I didn’t miss that, you overgrown worm. Maybe we should test all the teenagers in this house for their loyalty, then? While we’re at it, why not re-test everyone else, too? We can even waste more time by holding regular screenings. How about that plan?” Severus snapped, tired of constantly arguing about this topic.

“Enough of this, we are in the middle of a discussion; argue on your own time, not ours.” Albus’ voice thundered. Looking at him, Severus was forced to admit that he looked very old and fragile.

Looking around the table, Severus was forced to admit quite a lot of things. Almost no one here trusted Lucius. It made him angry; who were these people to judge his Lucius? They didn’t know him, didn’t have to know the hell he had gone through during the First War, didn’t know anything about him. Who were they to judge him?

“Albus, Arthur has a point. Why should we trust the Malfoys? All we have is the results of a test that has failed us once before; your reasoning that makes no sense to us; and the word of Severus Snape, a known spy and someone who could be blinded by his love for Lucius Malfoy.” Alastor Moody said.

Severus bit his tongue against the first couple things he would have loved to say.

“As much as I love to hate on Snivellus, I'm going to have to come out and say the bloody obvious: He's has never lied to us before. And he is a spy for a _reason_ , Moody, and that reason isn't just because of his stunning attitude. I think if he trusts the Malfoy’s… we should give them a chance.” Sirius Black said, sounding as if the words pained him.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, it’s the end of the world.” Remus Lupin sounded dazed; he probably hadn’t even realized he had spoken aloud. Severus had to agree with the Werewolf: this was probably one of the signs of the apocalypse.

“Moony!” Sirius whined.

“We are discussing Harry, NOT THE MALFOY’S!” Molly Weasley apparently had enough of this. Ever since Lucius had helped Albus clear Potter’s name, the woman had warmed up to him. That attitude had rubbed off on her daughter, as well. Miss Weasley and Draco were becoming good friends and could often be seen talking. Same with Miss Lovegood.

“Thank you, Molly. Poppy, if you would tell us your conclusions once more.” Not all the members knew what condition he was found in; only the ones who had gotten him from those pathetic excuses for humans were aware of how grim it was.

But, even with that, Severus didn't know what the point was of repeating the condition they had found the boy in.

“Harry Potter was found battered and bleeding in his relatives' household on the evening of August fourth. He had multiple open lacerations on his back caused by what looked like either a whip or belt. He had internal bleeding from a knife wound to his kidney and a punctured lung from broken ribs. He had several bruises upon his head and a cranial fracture. His left cheekbone was broken in a way that indicated a strong blow to the face and his nose had been broken as well. His fingers had a few missing nails and some where broken; his right ankle was broken in so many places that it was easier to just vanish the shards and regrow the bone entirely. There was also signs of sexual assault.” Poppy said clinically and Severus breathed deep as he tightened his grip on his magic, refusing to allow himself to loose control again.

~~(Lily's child. His almost sister's child, battered and broken by blood. Allowed to be treated that way by a woman who Lily _loved_. And he had allowed it to happen. Would she ever forgive him?) ~~

Lupin and Black had a murderous look of rage about them. Several members were moving away from them, especially when Lupin gave a feral growl.

Apparently, Poppy had more to say.

“There was tons of evidence to suggest a lifetime of abuse all over Mr. Potter’s body. However, there was also evidence of…” She looked to Albus, who nodded to her gravely.

“There was evidence to suggest he was with child, at one point. It's hard to tell if he ever gave birth, but there were signs that at one point, a fetus had developed enough to leave behind some markers. In cases like Potter's, the markers of a viable fetus can remain for up to three years.” She said and Severus felt his jaw drop.

It was fairly common in the magical world, as a whole, for males to have children; all that was needed was a strong individual or a potion. Since Potter was more then strong enough, magically, to probably not _need_ the potions, it made sense. However, the body needed to be matured otherwise the risk of losing the fetus was much higher. Potter was small, he always had been; his body wasn’t fit to bear children.

Albus stood up, pulling the attention of the room.

“As you all can see, this is very grave. On top of all that, I’m not sure how mentally stable Mr. Potter will be. The Ministry has already “given” Hogwarts a defense teacher, but I need someone, or multiple someones, at Hogwarts this year. Any suggestions?”

“Why don’t we just kill the Minister?” Nathan, a ministry worker that had been a part of the first war, offered. He had a deadpan sense of humor, so Severus wasn't the only member who gave him a side-eyed glance, unsure of how much of that sentiment was a joke.

“Ah, that seems like too much work, my old friend.” Albus replied and that, too, had an air of questionable humor to it.

* * *

When Poppy got back to Harry’s makeshift bed after the meeting, she was greeted with an unusual sight. Harry was sitting up in bed, making what appeared to be a doll of some sort.

Poppy had been shocked when she first saw Harry Potter upon his arrival. She had known, since the first time he had stepped foot in her infirmary, that he was hiding under a truly impressive matrix of glamours and beauty spells but she had thought it was hiding normal things. Blemishes, uneven skin tones, unsightly body hair, things like that. Most of the staff at Hogwarts thought similar things, since the matrix wasn't the kind of thing any self respecting professor would be able to miss.

In hindsight, she should have pushed harder to see what was under the spells.

Harry Potter's hair was long and dark, darker than his father's hair had been. During his childhood, Poppy had always been worried about how pale he had appeared, but now it was almost as if he had never been kissed by the sun, or was secretly a vampire. (Of course, Poppy had made sure that wasn’t the case, as vampires were naturally allergic to some medical potions.) His lips, which had always appeared thin and unremarkable, were actually rather full and he had a few small scars upon his face, little things that made his delicate features seem sharper. His face was heart shaped, also like his mothers, and while he had his father's slightly pointed ears, they were perfectly aligned like his mothers had been. His body structure was so small that from behind he could be mistaken for a first year student. He had a certain kind of androgyny to him that she remembered from when he was a first year, but she had thought he had grown out of it.

Under all the magic, it had actually become more pronounced.

“What are you making there, Harry?” Poppy asked kindly, sitting down next to the boy. She was sure to keep her voice low and her magic soothing. Potter was already all healed physically, but Poppy wasn’t about to just let him go and expect him to be fine. No, she was sure that he was going to suffer some after effects from all the long years of abuse he’d had.

“A rag doll for Draco.” His voice hadn't changed, which she was thankful for. He was still soft spoken, unless he wanted to be loud.

“A rag doll?” Looking down at Potter’s bed she saw two other rag dolls, all complete. She reached down to pick them up, looking at Potter to make sure he didn’t mind. He didn’t seem to.

The one in her left hand had shoulder length blond wool for hair. It was smiling, and dressed in what looked like council robes; kind of like what Lucius Malfoy would wear at the Ministry. The one in her right hand had black wool for hair and was dressed in black robes, like a Hogwarts professor. It had what could only be described as a smirk on its face.

“Who are these two?” Poppy had a hunch on whom these two were. The better question was: are they rag dolls or voodoo dolls?

Harry looked over at her hands to see what she was inquiring about.

“The one in your left is Lucius Malfoy and the other one is Severus Snape.” Harry turned back to the doll in his hand. The hair was done and some clothes were near his knees.

“Why did you make them?” She hoped she sounded casual and not suspicious.

“I made them to give them away. The rag doll of Lucius Malfoy is going to go to Severus Snape, and visa versa. They aren’t going to see each other often this year, so I thought they’d like a doll.” He took the threaded needle and started connecting the torso to the head of the doll he was currently working on.

“Why? I thought you hated Severus.” Potter made quick work of connecting the head, then started to connect the arms.

“I don’t hate Snape. I dislike his blind spots in regard to me, but I don’t hate him. He might hate me, for all I know, but that really doesn’t matter to me. Besides, Draco likes him.” The doll was complete in a matter of moments and Poppy was impressed at the speed of completion.

“That was quick.”

“I’m good at making things.” Potter said and something about the sentence didn't seem quite right.

* * *

Finding Mr. Potter had been a lot more difficult then he thought it would be. The young man was in the highest levels of the house, talking with a portrait of some Black ancestor.

“You are hard to find, Mr. Potter.” He opened with, leaning on his cane as he spoke.

“We apologize for the inconvenience, Lord Malfoy.” Mr. Potter said quietly as he turned from the portrait to look at him.

Lucius felt his spine straighten at that look and he found himself wishing that he had brought Severus with him for this conversation.

“Why are you looking for me, Lord Malfoy?” Mr. Potter asked, tilting his head in a manner not unlike a cat.

“ _Lord?_ Why address me as such? Because I am a pureblood?” Lucius was genuinely curious as to Mr. Potter's answer. There were two answers to such a question and the answer would be interesting either way.

“No, because you are a clan head, and you haven’t given me permission to address you informally. Even if you were a half-blood or less, you would still be the head of the Malfoy Clan, and a Lord. Draco would be called young master Malfoy, if he were older than me.” Mr. Potter said and that _was_ an interesting answer. Those etiquette rules had mostly fallen out of favor in the last generation or so, certainly he hadn't been held to those rules. 

He knew them, of course, but he doubted many used those rules anymore. Certainly not anyone that was his son's age did.

“And would you call your godfather _lord_?” He asked, curious again to see what kind of answer the young man would give.

“No, because of the familial relationship between us. Though, if you mean in general, considering that the Potter and Black clans are both royal blood, or old blood depending, I would call him _Lord_ if I wasn't also his godson and heir.” Mr. Potter blinked at him slowly and the movement reminded him of the Dark Lord's massive serpent.

Lucius held in the shudder at the mental connection.

“I find myself interested in how you came to know these etiquette rules, Mr. Potter, as all reports of you point to you being a rather rude child.” Lucius said carefully. He did not shudder when the young man smiled wide, his expression pure trickery.

“ _Harry Potter_ does not need to have manners. He is expected not to, in fact, but _I_ have manners. Manners are important.” Mr. Potter said. 

“A member of the old blood not expecting to have manners, what is the world coming to?” The portrait scoffed, sounding a touch offended. Lucius glanced at it, mentally trying to place the painting of the woman to a name. He was never good with Narcissa's side of the family.

“The world is going to darkness and sorrow.” Mr. Potter said solemnly.

“Lady Alexandria, I think you'll find that the manners young Mr. Potter and I are discussing are quiet old fashioned now.” Lucius said once he had remembered what the name of the portrait was.

“Old fashioned?! Manners are _never_ old fashioned, young man.” Lady Alexandria said severely. Lucius inclined his head in respect to her. 

“You are correct, Lady, but in this case time has moved forward and manners have moved on with it.” Lucius said.

“Time is always moving, always changing.” Mr. Potter cut in and turned to walk into a room off the corridor they were hovering in. He left the door open in invitation.

The portrait huffed again and also walked away, out of frame completely. Lucius moved to follow after Mr. Potter, taking care not to lean too much on his cane, even though his right knee was starting to ache a little.

He walked through the door Mr. Potter had escaped through and came to a sitting room. The expensive rugs were under old, expensive furniture that was burgundy in color, no dust in sight. A raised marble mantle with a fireplace was tucked away in the back, with a few windows here and there. The windows had at once been stained glass Lucius could tell, but time had taken its toll, and grayed the ink. There were no portraits in this room, but upon the walls were tapestries of all sorts.

(He remembered this room as an office when he had visited this house in his youth. He remembered his father, Narcissa's mother, and her Aunt talking about their engagement as he and Narcissa sat on one of the couches and pretended to be content and happy with the arrangement.

It could have been worse, for both of them.)

Sitting in front of the non-lit fireplace was Mr. Potter, the sofas angled to face the door and the fire simultaneously. Lucius choose one to sit on, turning to Mr. Potter when he was situated.

“I wanted to thank you, Mr. Potter.” Lucius said quietly, wishing he had tea to occupy his hands with.

“For what?”

“For being so friendly with my son.” Lucius answered. Mr. Potter stared at him for a long few moments, long enough that Lucius was starting to get uncomfortable.

“I didn't do it for thanks.” Mr. Potter finally said and he sounded very close to offended.

“I know, which is why I feel the need to give them.” Lucius said and heaved himself back to his feet, his right knee protesting as he straightened it.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco woke up like the dead. He sat up, eyes desperately trying to see and make sense of the world around him. Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, he tried to remember why the hell he was up this early. He could already tell that school was not going to be easy to get back into the swing of things.

_'School…Why does that ring bells…?'_

Train. September first. Today.

“SHIT! What time is it?!”

* * *

Severus headed into the bathroom feeling like he was hungover. Damn Lucius for being so irresistible and damn himself for not being able to get enough of the man.

Undressing and stepping into the shower was quick work. Being at Hogwarts meant he was going to have to limit the time he spent with Lucius, which always seems to cause a lot more stress then it should. And now with the Potter situation, this year was already looking crappy. _‘Let’s not forget the dear idiot from the Ministry that will be there. What was her name… Debbie? Doris?’_

His musing was cut off when Lucius plastered himself to his back, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Lucius, are you hugging me?” He asked dryly and bit back a moan as Lucius bit at his shoulder. Damn his sensitive shoulders.

“That is what people do when in love, no? Hug, kiss, shag…” Lucius murmured, his hands wandering.

Severus turned and pushed his lover against the wall, kissing him with intent. Lucius eagerly opened his mouth for him and wrapped a wet hand around his cock.

“Lucius, what am I going to do without you this year?” Severus breathed out and lazily thrust forward.

“Well, Mr. Potter did give you that rag doll of me, didn’t he?” Lucius said in reply.

“Don’t talk about Potter during sex, Lucius. You'd think you'd remember that from school.” Severus groaned and Lucius laughed.

* * *

Ginny and Luna were in hysterics. Clutching onto each other in their mirth, laughing so hard their eyes watered. It wasn’t even overly funny, but the two of them couldn’t seem to help it.

The two girls had come downstairs to see Hermione cooking instead of Mrs. Weasley. She had cooked waffles, English muffins, made fresh fruit salad, and toast. Ron and Harry were already up, no shock there, and playing a no smoke version of exploding snap. Harry was winning. That wasn’t the funny part.

The funny part was the way they were acting.

The tree of them had always been different with each other than other people. Harry was like the bridge in between the two connected plots of land separated by water. In many ways, Harry was their pillar. An outsider, like Ginny or Luna, could never understand the way they all worked together.

Hermione was firmly in the role of Molly Weasley that morning, making breakfast and currently, Harry’s plate. Of course, she did that most mornings at Hogwarts as well, but it always got the same complaint. Then Ron would step in, acting like a typical father, and the three would banter back and forth. It was old behavior; they did it almost every morning.

But for some reason it seemed so funny this morning. Maybe it was the familiar sense of normalcy in a rapidly changing environment.

Whatever it was, it was funny and comforting. Ginny had a feeling that things wouldn’t be like that for a long, long time.

* * *

Sirius was not waking up. Remus had tried almost everything. He had poured water on him, he had threatened withholding sex, he had jumped up and down on the bed, he had banged things, he had threatened to spell acne on Sirius’ face, and he had even said that he’d have an affair with Severus if Sirius didn’t wake up.

It didn’t work.

He gave a sigh, turning around to the door. If Sirius wasn’t going to wake up, he wasn’t going to get to say good bye to the kids, mostly Harry.

Upon opening the door he was faced with Harry.

“Good Morning. We’re about to leave…is Sirius up?” Remus badly wanted to hold Harry, lock him up with Sirius, and not let him go to Hogwarts. But Albus would never allow that.

“Sirius, you said you wanted to come with us to the station.” Harry nudged his godfather’s shoulder. Remus watched in shock and amusement when Sirius rose out of bed like a vampire in a muggle movie.

“I’ll be right down. Don’t leave without me.” Sirius said, sounding not quiet awake. Harry gave the older man a blinding smile before he scurried out of the room.

“You are so whipped.” Remus commented.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you cheating heart. I mean, really, _Snape_? As if you would ever go from this to a tub of grease you'd have to duel Malfoy to get at.”

* * *

Platform nine and three-quarters was a nightmare like it always is. Mad-Eye, Tonks, the Weasley’s, and Sirius in dog form just added to the chaos. Children were shouting, parents were giving last hugs and kisses, animals were loose, and there were so many people.

The twins had taken all of their trunks up to the train, promising not to tamper with them in any way. The only reason anyone believed them was because Harry had threatened to castrate them if they so much as thought of touching his stuff; the twins had swept the boy into a hug and cooed as if he were a particularly adorable toddler. Harry bit one of them.

“I feel shorter than usual.” Harry said in a semi-annoyed voice. He was standing in-between Ron and Draco, both over five feet eight inches, while he stood at barely five feet. All of Hogwarts’ fourth years were taller then he was now. Ginny and Luna were probably the average height of the fourth years, and they were five feet five inches.

Ron draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. You're short, you’ll always be short. If you want to blame something, blame the Dursley’s.”

“Oh, yes, because that’s so mature.” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“You're fifteen, Harry, screw maturity.” Draco spoke for the first time around anyone else that morning. Harry gave him an annoyed look.

“I hate you, Draco. And your height. Stupid tall people…with their…tallness; I’m going to stand by Snuffles, at least _he’s_ shorter then me!” Migrating over to Snuffles was a bit challenging, he almost got ran over twice by passing students.

Standing next to Snuffles also had him standing next to six foot tall Tonks and Arthur Weasley. He scowled.

“This is so not fair! Ron, get over here, _now_!” Harry shouted the last word out, which was the loudest anyone had heard him that whole summer. Ron was soon in front of Harry, who demanded Ron gave him a piggy back ride, because he was taller.

“Your logic makes no sense, Harry, none!” Ron laughed out, as he hosted Harry onto his back. Tonks and the Weasley’s had amused looks, while the rest of the teenagers openly laughed at Harry and Ron’s behavior.

“Wow…I’m so tall…” Harry looked around them, able to finally see over the tops of the majority of the students hustling here and there.

“NEVILLE! HEY NEVILLE!” Hermione had located Neville Longbottom. She was jumping up and down, waving her arm in the air. The plump boy smiled; red in the face from the people staring at him and Hermione alternately, as he came over.

“Hey, guys.” He blinked at Draco’s presence.

“Yo.” Draco nodded his head at the other boy, who smiled awkwardly.

“Um…Hi…?” He looked up at Harry, confused. Harry grinned down at him.

“Explain later. Let’s get on the train. Ron, Ginny say good bye to your Mum and Dad.” Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes at Harry as they walked to their parents to give them hugs and goodbyes. Harry got a hug and a kiss from Molly, as he refused to get off Ron.

“Snuffles, he of the great chewer of shoes - “ Fred started, reaching a hand down to Padfoot. He barked, his tail wagging eagerly.

“- The sniffer of treasure and mischief - “

“ - The fluffy demander of pets - “

“We shall take care of the adorable puppies you leave in our care, oh great one!” The finished and swept into an exaggerated bow to the dog, who woofed and then jumped up to lick at their faces. The two boys yelped and tried to push the great dog off.

“Alright, alright off you all go.” Tonks said, shooing them away from Padfoot, still laughing at the twins' antics.

The seven teens found a compartment near the end of the train that they all filled into. Harry was moved to sit, more or less, squished in between Draco and Ron. Ginny sat herself on Luna’s lap while Neville and Hermione sat comfortably next to each other.

“I take it Malfoy not only knows about you two,” Neville pointed to Luna and Ginny, “but is also to be trusted in our little gang of friends?” Harry nodded to him.

“You seem to be taking this well.” Draco said. Neville looked at him for a long moment.

“Oh, I’ll question you later, make sure for myself that you can be trusted. But not now; Harry’s already under a lot of stress as it is.” Neville said.

“Why do you say that?” Draco sounded snappy and annoyed. He’d developed a migraine from all the noise on the platform.

“Because he was clingy with Ron. He only ever does that when he’s majorly stressed out. It doesn’t take a genius, Malfoy.” That migraine was growing, pounding the inside of his head. He pondered if perhaps his head would split open.

“Please stop arguing, you two are stressing me out more then I already am. No one here wants to see me when I get psycho stressed out; it’s not pretty.” Harry said cheerfully.

* * *

Harry didn’t like Lavender Brown. Hermione didn’t like her, either. And if she leaned onto Ron _one more time_ , heads would roll.

“Oh, Won-Won, I had the most best summer! How was yours? Was it good?” Lavender leaned closer, if possible, to Ron. He was attempting to lean away from her, but that was difficult on a couch, like the ones in the common room.

“Lavender, use proper grammar, please.” Hermione’s hands were gripping her book so hard her knuckles were white. Harry was gritting his teeth, chanting to himself in his head.

‘ _Don’t yell, don’t yell, don’t yell.’_

“It was eventful.” Ron attempted to lean further away from the teenage girl; said teen wrapped her arms around his waist, almost climbing onto his lap.

Harry shot out of his chair, snarling, before stomping over to the couch. He grabbed Ron’s other arm, hauling him up and sending Lavender to the ground. He gave her a mockery of a smile, more of a sneer.

“Oh, sorry. I have to talk to Ron about some things.” He started to head for the dorm, when Lavender’s hand shot out to grasp Ron’s robes.

“He doesn’t want to spend time with you, you attention-seeking, lying, evil murderer!” The whole common room silenced. While the majority of Gryffindor had not only read, but believed the Daily Prophet, no one had dared to say so right to Harry’s face just yet. They were content to talk behind his back.

(They also remembered how violent Harry could get when angry – no one wanted a repeat of the time last year when someone had cut up his teddy bear and ripped out the stuffing. The meltdown had been...violent.)

“Lavender, what the bloody hell is your problem?! Are you incapable of thinking for yourself?” Ron was so angry that he couldn’t even manage to find his shouting voice. Lavender shrunk back from him.

The two disappeared upstairs. Once gone, the room exploded in conversations.

“Did you see that? Potter must have brainwashed Weasley-”

“Weasley and Potter have always seemed so close, so of course they’re both evil-”

“Maybe Potter is right and the Prophet _is_ wrong. I mean, he’s our Savior…”

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, and then made eye contact with the twins.

This was going to be a hard year.

* * *

Ron and Harry were sitting on Harry’s bed, the curtains drawn.

“I really don’t see why you’re freaking out, Harry.” Harry was making himself comfortable, obviously intending to go to sleep after this conversation. He was holding his teddy bear close.

“I don’t like her, Ron. _I don’t like her_.” Harry glared at nothing in particular. “Something’s wrong… I don’t know what it is… but something is wrong.” He frowned. Ron threw an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him against his side. He recognized the half distracted look in Harry's eyes by now. Harry was going to see something tonight.

“Why do you trust Draco Malfoy?” This was a question that had been bothering him for some time now. This was the perfect excuse to ask it, when neither one wanted to know what Harry might dream of tonight.

He didn’t expect Harry to turn into him and burrow down into his shoulder.

“I want to trust him, because he is mine. You asked me once who my love songs were for. Do you remember?” Harry's voice was muffled but it didn't stop Ron from hearing him. “They're for him.”

“You've been writing and singing those songs for as long as I've known you.” Ron commented.

“I've missed him for most of my life.” Harry murmured. Ron bit his tongue against the first few things he wanted to say.

“Just because he's yours, or because he _was_ once yours, doesn't mean that is how things will go now. And, even if they do go that way...I'm not sure that's a good place to base trust on.” Ron said softly and as gently as he could. 

“I know, I know. I just...I'm tired of pretending that I don't – I'm just...I'm tired.” Harry said, for once not so articulate.

Ron hummed and pet Harry's hair, hoping that this wasn't going to blow up in their faces.


	5. Chapter 5

A baby was crying, somewhere in the darkness. There was the smell of salt water. A shine of green, which solidified into...

Nymphadora Tonks? Her hair was a bright green and she had changed her nose into something small and cute, with a point at the tip. She was holding the crying baby, who was wrapped in a soft cloth that shimmered.

She knelt down and put the baby down. It sank into nothing, choking and struggling as if it were underwater. The baby's hair cycled from a green that matched Tonks', a dull red, and black as its little arms thrashed and its legs kicked needlessly.

“Suffer not the child, suffer not the pain, suffer not.”

The baby stopped struggling, its eyes open and empty.

* * *

Harry bolted upright, gasping and reaching for a child that wasn't there, as if he could snatch the child back into life and safety by sheer will.

“What was it? Quickly, before you forget.” Ron said, rubbing his back.

“Tonks. There was a baby, she was – the baby drowned. She might have drowned it herself, but that might not have been as literal as it looked.” Harry said and brougth his legs up to rest his head against his knees. That could have meant any number of things, really. Anything from a danger to Tonks herself to a warning about something she was involved in. Hell, Tonks being there might have been a placeholder and it might not have anything to do with the woman at all.

Ron yawned and Harry took a moment to look around, noting the quietness of the room and how there didn't seem to be any light peeking through the drapes surrounding his bed. It must have been very late – or even very early, perhaps.

“Go back to sleep. I’m going to take a shower, I’m all sweaty.” Harry said and swung himself out of bed, noting that the room was indeed quiet, dark, and filled with the sounds of sleeping boys.

* * *

“WHAT?!” Angelina Johnson’s voice crashed throughout the Great Hall. All noise stopped. The Professors shot disapproving looks down to her, McGonagall took points. But that didn’t seem to faze her. She was out of her seat and in front of the Headmaster very quickly. The twins were ecstatic. Ron was still staring down at the written notice, frowning, while Harry was trying to avoid Hermione’s increasingly firm insistence of him eating more sausages.

He was full and if he was going to eat anything else, it would be fruit not more meat.

“You moved the matches. Gryffindor _always_ goes against Slytherin first. ALWAYS! You have Ravenclaw and Slytherin up for the first lineup! Headmaster, you wrote it wrong, right?” Angelina sounded so hopeful at that last note. Students started to chatter amount themselves, no doubt most of them having ignored the notices on their common room boards that appeared last night, and only hearing about this upset now.

“I’m afraid that I didn’t make a mistake, dear. I did that on purpose. Thought it would remove some tension between your houses.” Albus’ twinkle was on full-force. He spoke kindly, as if to a much younger child, not a young adult. It was a gentle reminder.

Angelina blushed to her roots, before rushing back to her seat. The twins immediately clapped her on the back once she was in reach, jostling her and causing her to reach out herself to shove at them.

“So...what does that mean, in layman's terms?” Hermione asked and Ginny turned to look at her with such horror it was comical.

“That means Gryffindor doesn’t go against Slytherin until after February! Honestly, Hermione, you are surrounded by Quidditch players how do you not know the schedule yet?” The younger girl asked incredulously.

“I know when the games happen and I know when practices are – asking me for more is just too much.” Hermione deadpanned. Ginny made a strangled sound while Ron snorted.

“It took her dating Viktor Krum to even understand all the rules.” Ron said and Ginny gaped.

“How are you _real_?” Ginny asked Hermione, who huffed at her in annoyance. 

* * *

When Harry came downstairs, most people barley glanced at him. Until they caught sight of the colors he was wearing, then there were a lot of double takes and open mouths. Colin Creevey cackled and yanked his camera up, not even bothering to ask permission before he took several photos. Natalie McDonald squeaked and hurried forward, questions about where Harry had gotten some of his clothes stumbling out before she was even properly in front of him.

Harry was wearing a corset top, sleeves that clamped around his upper arms and flared out around his wrists, a skirt, stockings, and platform boots. The whole outfit was alternately silver and green. The fact that Harry had no breasts to speak of, didn’t seem to hinder the outfit in any way. The skirt went down to his knees, where the stockings took over; the stockings with the Slytherin emblem on them. They were clearly not the school socks, as the detailing was much more intricate than the mass produced socks that some Slytherins took to wearing for special occasions.

“Where did you get your top, I love it! How much was it?” Natalie McDonald asked loudly, reaching out to touch the boning. The younger girl was always happy to talk clothes with anyone who would listen, which was a far cry from how she was as a first year last year – shy and not one to start conversations.

“Oh, this was actually my mother's. I had to reshape it a little, lack of chest you understand, but I think this was actually made for her as I couldn't find any kind of tagging or signature on it.” Harry explained and obediently lifted his right arm when the younger girl leaned forward to poke at the boning, most likely trying to figure out what type it contained.

“You made this skirt right, I recognize the pattern from something you were working on last year. Do you have the pattern for it still, could I borrow it?!” McDonald asked eagerly and Harry reached out to take her arm, gently turning her to walk with him as they started to head towards the door.

“Of course, I also made the sleeve and the socks, if you'd like those patterns too. The detailing for the socks is actually crochet, do you know how to do that?” He asked and listened as the younger girl went starry-eyed and asked more technical questions.

“Only the evil are in Slytherin! This is proof, he’s wearing their colors!” Someone muttered as they walked by.

“Is that even in the dress code?” Someone else asked.

“Can you see Professor Snape’s face when he sees Potter in that?” That was Lee Jordan. He sounded a little too gleeful for comfort.

“Why are you wearing that?” The twins asked in bemusement. Harry turned to look at them, grinning.

“I wanted to see if the Slytherin Team liked this outfit. So, I’ll wear it today, then again for the first match if they don't hate it too much.” Harry explained.

“I bet you anything Montague is going to ask you about the socks, his little sister is in my year and she usually wears decorative socks. He apparently buys her any unique ones he finds just to make her happy, it's kind of adorable – pity he's such a dick in almost every other way.” McDonald said quickly. She pulled at the band keeping his sleeves up and made an excited sound when the elastic pulled away from his skin cleanly.

“YOU ARE A GRYFFINDOR! YOU SHOULD NOT ROOT FOR THE ENEMY!” Angelina roared as she caught sight of him. Harry blinked at her as she towered over him, reaching out to poke his chest. He suspected she was mostly making noise for the sake of it – she never liked it when the common room got to this level of quiet.

(That is to say, _able to hear multiple conversations without anyone shouting_. She came from a large family, noise meant happiness to her.)

“If the Slytherins don’t win this match, there is a chance they will never face us this year. I don’t want that. Therefore, they _have_ to win this match, that way WE can wipe the floor with them. I won’t have it any other way.” Harry said hotly and he wondered if he could get away with stomped his foot or if that would be too much.

* * *

Draco looked at the ceiling of his dorm. He could truly say he was a fool in his younger years. Looking back, he couldn’t believe he was so stupid as to think of the Dark Lord as someone to look up to. The man was mad, a murderer, and had no idea what he was doing.

A cat jumped up onto his chest and Draco pet their back, absentmindedly wondering if this was a pet or an offspring from some pets and didn't actually belong to anyone. Cats always had a way of walking into anyone's rooms, regardless of things like closed doors or cat-repelling charms. Not that his door had anything like that one it – he liked cats.

He sighed and thought of his father. The _King of Deception_ some called him. He always thought his father was an avid Blood Supremacist. He thought his father would be proud of him if he was the same.

He was wrong.

His father did not believe in what Voldemort did. As a young adult, he had fallen for the lie that was Lord Voldemort’s service, but he had soon discovered that what the Dark Lord was doing was madness and disgusting. But he was in too deep by then; he could not simply decide to leave. He believed in the old ways; he believed in separation. Yet he did not think muggleborns were below him; he sneered at them because so many of them came into their world and just...appropriated things. They didn't even try to fit in, always trying to force their culture onto others. Or at least, that was what his father honestly thought.

The cat batted at his chin and he lifted it up, holding it above him with both hands. It was a cute thing, tiny and fluffy, it's eyes a deep blue. It's little nose wiggled as she kicked her legs. It looked a little like a cat his mother had when he was younger.

His mother was a normal mother. She didn’t raise him until he was over seven. Before that, it was all the house-elves' doing, with his parents coming in and out to play with him and tutor him. Sometimes they would tuck him into bed or eat with him, but for the most part it was the elves that did most of the early childhood rearing.

Narcissa Malfoy was selfish, she was vain, but she wasn’t cruel or cold. She was his mother and he loved her very much. She had always been the one to spoil Draco, tell him she loved him very much; she made him cocky, arrogant.

After Lord Voldemort came back, he was very angry at Draco’s father. He was angry at everyone, really, but he expressed his anger for Lucius more then anyone else. He wanted to hurt him to punish his father and his mother had stepped him, had defied him, and she had died for it.

Growing up, he thought joining Lord Voldemort would be an honor, the “cool” thing to do. He actually thought he would have _enjoyed_ killing innocent people. Often times, he’d imagine torturing and killing Hermione and other “mudbloods” like her. But the reality of things was...

He didn’t know shit back then and thinking of those times made him want to hurl. How he could have ever wanted to hurt Hermione, _really_ hurt her, was beyond his comprehension now. She was the sweetest, most compassionate, patient, persona he’d ever met. He could see what Ron saw in her, and if he were straight, he might even be attracted to her himself.

(More then that though, he _knew her_. He went to school with her, lived in the the same castle as her for _months_. He didn't like a lot of people, wasn't anything personal, but unless they attacked him, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to hurt them. He wouldn't be able to harm a child – to look at someone so small and turn a curse on them. And that was what being a Death Eater was all about – the ability to be cruel for the sake of it. 

He could be cruel if need be, but he didn't think he'd ever be able to kill anything so trusting. Just laying here with this cat – would he be able to hold it down and cut it open as it cried? Would he be able to snap its neck? Just for the crime of  _existing_ ? 

No. He wouldn't. More importantly, he could curse anyone who  _wanted to_ .)

“Hey, Draco, morning time. Food, classes, all that good stuff.” Blaise Zabini floated into his room. As a fifth year, everyone got their own rooms down in the dungeons. Out of everyone in Slytherin, only two people were still classified as friends. Everyone else was silently plotting to kill him, he was sure. Severus and the looming threat of not only the Malfoy clan, but also the Ministry of Magic, was the only thing protecting him. For now.

Later on, he’d have to get charms on his door, make sure no one can just enter it. He’d have to think about how he was going to do that. He put the cat down outside of his room, waving his wand lazily to lock it and put a nasty jinx on the door to keep the passively curious of of it.

Coming into the Great Hall he was met with a lot less noise than was usual for breakfast. He surveyed the room, looking for the cause of the lessened noise and found it quickly.

Harry was calmly sitting at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast. He had gotten so used to seeing Harry without the layers of glamours, but he supposed it _was_ an odd sight when you weren't expecting it. He had been buried under glamours for so long and last night was so busy people must not have noticed that he wasn't wearing any. To see what he really looked like, down here where Professors could see him, that was probably throwing everyone. After all, for almost four years Harry kept his true appearance for the fifth floor and up. 

(He should probably ask Harry about some spells to put on his door. He wanted to keep people out of his stuff and from cursing his door, but not actually  _harm_ anyone. All the spells he knew that did those would definitely hurt someone if crossed.)

He looked Harry over again. Was he wearing Slytherin colors? _Why_? 

Professor Umbridge and Auror Tonks, who was sent to “protect” the defense professor (Protect her from what? Her own incompetence? Good fucking luck with that.), both looked furious. Severus was looking at his food in a way that meant he was desperately trying to ignore the rest of the room, which was rather funny. The headmaster didn't seem to notice that anything was unusual and Professor McGonagall had a pinched look on her face, like the one she wore when the Weasley twins did something very difficult and very talented for a prank. The look that said _I want to approve of this but why would you use it like_ _ **that**_ _?_

Looking away from the Professors back to Harry was a mistake. Harry had caught sight of him and was smiling at him, eyes sparkling with ill-concealed delight. Draco’s breath caught in his chest, which was entirely unfair and ridiculous. Before he knew what was happening, he was in beside the Gryffindor table, standing next to Harry.

“So, do you like it?” Harry’s voice wrapped around him, stole his thoughts, and left him grasping for words briefly. Harry's mouth was upturned in a wicked smile and wow, he was even wearing lip paint that had a slight green tint to it.

“What possessed you to wear that?” He made sure to keep his voice teasing. Harry’s smile never wavered.

“I choose it for the Quidditch game. You like it, don’t you?” A tilt of Harry’s head exposed his neck and Draco did everything he could to not act like an idiot.

(He was unsure of how well he was doing. Blaise wasn't laughing at him though, so...that was probably a good thing.)

“You look fine. And… that could work really well as a distraction.” Draco said and it was natural to reach a hand out when Harry started to raise, to help him up, and wow with those boots Harry was the same height as him. That was...well, it was certainly something.

“See you in class, Draco.” Harry said and Draco thought, for a wild moment, that Harry was going to kiss his cheek like he often did when they were in limbo together. Harry left the hall and Draco did not stare after him, watching his hips move.

He went to his own table and did not pinch Blaise when the other boy almost started laughing at him.

Fuck, he was in trouble.

* * *

Harry leaned against a wall along the corridor leading to the History of Magic classroom, his first class of the day. Eyes closed, he reached out to press the heel of one hand against the bridge of his nose, hoping the pressure would lessen the sudden headache he had gotten. This wasn't a good time to get an onslaught of memories, even if it was his own damn fault.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Harry slid to the floor gasping. There were too many memories in his head. “It hurts.” He really shouldn't have teased so much earlier, it was too similar to other times. Other places.

_A tender kiss, comforting._

_Hands followed by kisses, arching, eyes open and seeing nothing._

“ _I love you.” Whispered into the air as a last breath is drawn._

_The sun setting, descending into the sea. Flames lick the sky as a scream rips through the air. Pain, Desperation, Love, Hate, Sorrow… so much sorrow._

_A teardrop._

_Thanatos smoothing down a woman’s hair, as she screamed and sobbed._

Ron’s face loomed in, a worried expression causing his freckles to fade a tad.

“I’m okay now.” Harry said as Hermione grasped Harry’s arms, hauling him up. He smoothed down his skirt aiming a smile at the two of them.

He was fine now.

(He wanted Draco. But that wasn't right and it wasn't fair, because he didn't. Not really. Or maybe not completely?)

* * *

Harry was going to die. He was sure of it. Why is it that _every damn time_ he gets paired with Draco in Potions? Why? It was more tolerable when Draco had a strong dislike of him; at least then, Draco wasn’t so close or comfortable around him.

Damn it, with his luck he was going to end up doing something stupid and making things more complicated then they needed to be. Why couldn't be just be content at the speed things were going.

Draco's hand brushed against his as he passed a root over. A jolt of magic came with it, natural as anything, and Harry wanted very badly to scream. Or perhaps just vanish – could you die from mortification? Surely he would have by now, if you could. Potions was always torture for Harry, for most of the time he was paired with Draco. Back in the day, when Draco had immense dislike for him, the other boy was more aware of himself. He never touched Harry, never alternately stared at Harry for no reason out of the corner or his eyes, and never flipped his hair like that.

Sure, it was to get it back over this shoulder as it was a tad longer than Draco usually let it get, but it also just plain wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair.

_And it was driving Harry mad._

“Class Dismissed.”

Harry packed up, glided over to Ron and Hermione, and then glided out the door. Yes, Glided. He didn’t walk; walking was too slow. He needed to get out of that classroom that second.

* * *

Ginny’s mouth moved along Luna’s collarbone, hands resting on the middle of Luna’s back, holding her shirt mostly up. Luna’s hands rested on Ginny’s shoulders, legs tangled with her girlfriend’s.

It didn’t occur to the two girls to be concerned that they skipped their first class to cuddle, nor did it concern them that they were in the Gryffindor common room, where anyone could see them if they came through the portrait door.

What did concern them was hearing Ron’s loud, thundering voice suddenly.

“GINERVA WEASLEY! YOU ARE IN A COMMON ROOM! 30 POINTS FROM BOTH RAVENCLAW AND GRYFFINDOR FOR BORDERLINE PUBLIC INDECENCY! PUT. YOUR. GIRLFRIEND’S. SHIRT. BACK. ON!”

Ron’s disapproving yell was followed by Hermione’s _this-is-so-widely-inappropriate-I-shouldn’t-be-laughing_ laugh.

“Hermione, change that to 15 points each, 30 is excessive.” Harry said and Hermione would no doubt change it once she stopped laughing.

“I was holding her shirt on, Ron!” Ginny glared up at her older brother, not really sure that _this_ was the argument she wanted to go with, but she was really embarrassed. Luna calmly sat up and buttoned her shirt back up.

“It’s the principle of the notion, Ginny! If you are going to be intimate, please do it in your rooms. I can’t handle seeing you two… I still see my little sister who is this big,” Here Ron held his hands close together, to the size Ginny would have been as an infant.

“You weren’t old enough to remember me being that little, you bloody idiot!” And the two bickered back and forth.

Harry rolled his eyes as he went upstairs. Hermione quickly swapped books before leaving for her arithmancy class, telling Ginny and Luna that she had corrected the amount of points taken and to please go easy on the PDA.

It wasn’t long after the two had stopped bickering that Harry returned downstairs.

“We need to talk.” He said, which was never a good sentence to hear from anyone. Especially not when it was said like that. Luna and Ginny gave Harry their full attention. Ron yanked Harry down into his lap, earning an undignified yelp and a smack across the head.

“Watch my skirt!” Harry snapped.

“Oh, I'm sure a lot of people were _watching your skirt_.” Ron said. “Thank you, again, for not making it short.” He continued. Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance. 

“If I want to wear a short skirt, Ronald Weasley, you have no right to tell me not to.” Harry said. Ginny had an expression on her face that usually spelled trouble.

“Ron, is there something you need to tell us about your and Harry’s relationship?” Ginny asked gleefully. Ron reached over and flicked her forehead.

“No, but if you want to ask those questions around the castle, please do so. Maybe it'll make someone jealous.” Ron said and Harry scowled.

“We need to talk about Lavender Brown.” Harry cut in, clearly not about to let this conversation get derailed.

“Isn’t big brother dating her?” Ginny asked, clearly teasing.

Harry smiled, wide and manic, which made the girls shrink away from him.

“Yes. That Lavender.” Harry said.

Last year, Lavender had been one of Rita Skeeter “sources” that she used in her articles. The year before that, she spread a few slanderous rumors about him around, notably calling him a slag and implying he would sleep with anyone who would take him. In their second year, she helped endorse the idea that Harry was Slytherin's heir. Needless to say, Harry and Lavender had never gotten along.

But this year seemed to be the worst. Lavender and Ron had started to date, regardless of what she had said about Harry the first night he was at Hogwarts. Lavender didn’t like Ron hanging out with Harry because of her “beliefs” and didn’t like him hanging out with Hermione because she was another girl. It also didn't help that the actual reason Ron had agreed to date her was mostly to keep tabs on what her gossip vine was saying about Harry and do some damage control.

“Have any of you noticed anything odd about Lavender’s behavior this year?” Harry asked and focused his attention on Ginny when she worried her bottom lip in thought.

“She seems to be more set against you, but that’s not really anything new. It just pisses me off. She never shuts up about it!” Ginny scowled, crossing her arms across her chest. Luna nodded along with Ginny’s assessment; she hadn’t noticed anything different.

“What’s bothering you about her? And, please, say more then you’re jealous.” Ron said and ducked when Harry went to elbow him.

“I'm _not_ jealous! No matter what you do, no one is going to take us dating seriously. Not after last year.” Harry snapped. He huffed and settled down. 

“There’s something different, something not quite right about her this year.” He furrowed his brow. “She has a dark spot around her neck… right where her collarbone is. It gets darker sometimes and I don’t know what it is.”

“Dark spot?” Ginny cuddled closer to Luna as she asked this question. Harry looked at the two of them for a long moment before speaking.

“You both know I had problems with my eyes, right? The potions and spells I had over the summer fixed a lot of the problems, but I can still see magic very well.” Harry explain and the girls nodded. The whole school knew, of course, that he used to wear glasses. But as always that wasn’t the whole story. Ginny and Luna found out about Harry’s eyes by accident.

_Ginny and Luna were quietly spending their afternoon in the library, as they usually did. Even with two other schools at Hogwarts, the main library was still a fairly deserted space._

_Luna’s hair fell into her eyes. Ginny's hand twitched with the want to brush it back._

_Harry came around the corner then, looking slightly panicked._

“ _Oh, thank the heavens! Ginny, Luna, hide me, please! He’s right behind me, please hide me!” Ginny, not really thinking, shoved him in between the wall and the table. She made herself ready for anything, and saw Luna tense in anticipation._

_Needless to say, they were shocked when Cedric Diggory came around the corner. Upon seeing Ginny, the older boy smiled charmingly._

“ _Have you see Harry Potter?” Ginny, realizing that this was who Harry had been desperate to hide from, simply shook her head. The boy looked disappointed as he left._

_Ginny turned to look at Harry, only then noticing that the boy had somehow lost his glasses and was hiding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through a window. It was too much for the girl, who started laughing so hard her ribs hurt._

_Luna seemed somewhat alarmed, getting out of her chair to pull the laughing girl to the ground underneath the table. It was a mistake to do so, as Ginny promptly fell over and all three heard the crunch of Harry’s glasses, followed by Harry’s groaning._

_The sound made Ginny stop laughing almost immediately. But upon getting off the glasses, something struck Ginny as odd. The lenses were dark brown instead of clear; they almost looked like the lenses of muggle sunglasses. Looking at Harry to ask him a question about the glasses almost made her scream._

_Harry’s face looked like something out of a nightmare. His eyes were shut with blood running in small tear shaped tracks. It looked as if he were crying blood. The initial shock of seeing him in such a state wore off and she found her voice._

“ _Harry… what?” Luna had moved more under the table, seemingly ignoring the two of them in favor of the bottom of the table they were under._

“ _Move a bit more under the table, at least so I’m out of the sunlight. You don’t want to see my eyes when they are exposed to sunlight without my glasses. Also, it hurts.” Ginny did as she was told in silence._

_Once under the table, Harry grabbed a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his face, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Upon finishing, he opened his eyes to look at the two girls. The green was bleeding out into the white of his eyes. His pupils were different too, almost like a cat, but not quite long enough._

“ _My eyes aren’t like yours.” Ginny had never heard a bigger understatement. “My glasses have a spell on them to block out the sun and it makes the lenses dark when they're not connected to the frames. As you saw earlier, my eyes bleed when exposed to the sun. It doesn’t hurt a lot but it is a very… unsettling visual, you know?”_

_Luna seemed to tune in then, holding out a string with nothing on it for Harry to look at. He stared at it for a long time, before looking to Luna._

“ _When you want to speak, you will have to tell me where you got that.” He looked at Ginny. “I can see magic, which I'm not entirely sure is connected to the sun thing or not . But don’t go spreading that around all right?” Ginny and Luna nodded with enthusiasm._

“ _Pinky promise?” He held up both of his pinky fingers._

So, there was something the matter with Lavender Brown's magic; something Harry could see. Or perhaps what he was seeing was a spell of some sort? It probably wasn't a good sign that it was centered around the girl's neck.

“This dark spot waxes and wanes. When it gets darker, it almost looks like a symbol of some sort, but most of the time her clothes cover it when I try to make it out. It is very frustrating.” Harry spoke softly, eyes gazing at something only he could see.

“Do you think she’s a Death Eater? Could she have a new kind of dark mark?” Luna asked seriously.

“No. The Dark Mark actually isn’t seen with the symbol; it’s seen as an ever present abyss. I can’t even see a Death Eater’s arm that has the Dark Mark on it.” Harry explained.

“Would it help if you could see her in one place with her shirt off?” Ginny asked, finger resting on her lips.

“Yes, actually… And how do you plan on accomplishing that, Ginny dear?”

Ginny looked at Luna, before promptly dragging her up to the girls dorms, calling out to the two remaining boys.

“I’ll have a plan by dinner!”

* * *

He was lucky Divination was a crap class. It gave him more time to help Ron in learning useful things. Like the last bits of the Korean alphabet.

A dramatic gasp from their professor drew a sigh from Harry and a quiet chuckle from Ron.

“Mr. Potter… oh, I’m so sorry… you… you poor child! You will die, tonight. A bad case of indigestion. Oh, so sorry.” Professor Trelawney said tearfully. Ron choked on a laugh and harry sighed.

Then an idea struck and he couldn't _not_ go through with it.

“Professor, will I be dying before or after this outfit hits the floor?” Harry asked and Ron couldn’t hold it in any longer and just started laughing. Several other people did as well.

Needless to say, some points were docked from Gryffindor for crudeness.

* * *

Harry’s eyes hurt. Why, oh why, was this woman so fond of pink?! And Tonks’ _hair_. Harry couldn’t tell if it was normal pink or neon magenta.

“You won’t need your wands, books out please.” Professor Umbridge said. The mixed class of Slytherins and Gryffindors exchanged glances. Those words were never good in a Defense classroom.

By the time Harry was in McGonagall’s Office holding a biscuit, he wasn’t sure who he was more annoyed at: himself for losing his patience, or Tonks for smirking the whole damn time that toad of a woman showed her real reason for being at Hogwarts.


	6. Chapter 6

“I have a plan.” Ginny whispered to Harry and Ron as the three of them were walking into the Great Hall for dinner. The youngest redhead walked over to sit with Luna at the Ravenclaw table. Hermione was already eating, sandwiched between the Twins, who appeared to be asking her something.

The second Ron and Harry took their seats across from Hermione, the world tilted abruptly. This tilt had a name: Lavender Brown. Harry’s head connected to the ground with a crack as he was shoved violently off the bench. The Great Hall, almost as one, winced.

“Oh, Won Won, it was HORRIBLE! I was teased something awful today by that ugly Parkinson cow! She wouldn’t leave me alone!” Lavender was trying to sound coy, but she just sounded constipated. Harry rubbed the back of his head as he got up off the floor.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, Potter. You want something?” Lavender turned around, flipping her hair in Harry’s face. Harry glared at her and was about to say something, when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Is there a problem, Lavender?” Tonks’ voice sent a chill down Harry’s spine, and there were alarms sounding in Harry’s head.

“No, Ms. Tonks. No problem. Potter was just going to leave.” Lavender smiled up at Tonks, which caused the young Auror to release Harry. Harry clenched his jaw and marched out of the Great Hall, his shoulder tingling with something that felt unclean and Not Right. He had only spent a few days around Tonks this summer, but he had spent almost his entire first year being entertained by the seventh year girl who loved to turn her nose into a pig snout or her ears into floppy dog ears'. Her magic didn't feel like that, it was bubbly and light not...whatever that was.

That was probably not a good sign.

* * *

Albus called the Order meeting to silence. He tiredly whipped his glasses on his sleeve, causing a few members to look on in worry.

“We need to discuss Dolores Umbridge and her influence on the students.” No sooner then the words came out of his mouth, pandemonium swept through the room.

“She’s a menace to education!”

“She is hindering the students from being able to defend themselves!”

“There are accusations of her threatening the staff; the students!”

“She thinks she can turn this school into her own army for the Ministry?”

“Dolores is a wonderful person, who is just doing her job! She’s an upstanding citizen, and just abiding by the law!”

The last comment made everyone look in shock at Tonks. She was glaring at everyone, her hands clenched on the table.

“You can’t say she’s a bad person; she is good. WE are the ones that are the unlawful rebels! Look at us, talking about uprooting the Ministry, believing a lying, attention-seeking-” That was as far as she got before Molly Weasley slapped her across the face. As Tonks turned to the older woman, she looked furious, the whole table looked shocked at Molly’s actions. Even Molly herself looked at her hand in amazement, not quite believing what just happened.

* * *

“That’s my shirt!” Lavender accused, pointing dramatically at Ginny’s blouse. Ginny looked up at the older girl with an annoyed expression.

“Give it back!” Lavender grabbed a handful of Ginny’s hair, yanking her out of her seat towards the dorms. Ginny somehow managed to smack the older girl and from there, an all out catfight occurred.

Hands yanked at hair, faces were slapped, Ginny got a good kick in, and Lavender finally remembered she was a witch and got out her wand. Ginny dove for it the second it was in the older girl’s hand. Lavender slapped Ginny across the face as the two went tumbling to the ground. A rip sounded through the room as Ginny ripped a portion of Lavender’s shirt off, right over the black spot Harry had been trying to see since the beginning of school.

The black spot on the girl was darker then ever, and the more Harry looked at it, the more he felt his stomach churn. The spot was saturated in emotions: fear, despair, helplessness, hopelessness, rage, and a black sort of self-hate. Harry placed the back of his palm against his mouth, almost losing the contents of his stomach. Ron and Hermione stepped between the two, voices raised as they yelled and lectured in equal measure.

Later, as he was huddled in the shower crying, he could not recall how he got upstairs.

* * *

_The first thing Harry was aware of was that he was being roughly grabbed by the arms. The next thing was that he was also being dragged somewhere._

_What was going on? Where was he?_

“ _Please, let go of me! I’m sorry, I’ll do what ever you want, PLEASE!” A voice begged and shouted at the faceless people dragging him. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it._

_A door opened in front of him, and he was pulled in._

_He was strapped to a table, there was something wet underneath him, his heart started beating wildly. The two faceless people stared down at him and he knew they were smiling at him, that if he could see their faces, they would be smiling widely. He saw the glint of silver._

_I don’t want to die._

_~~I Don’t Want To Die.~~ _

_I DON’T WANT TO DIE!_

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and Ron knew that most of Hogwarts was under watch by either the Order or Professor Umbridge, if not both. Between the three of them, they had researched and taught themselves every privacy spell known to man and a few that weren’t. And in researching all of that they also noticed something rather nice: both parties of spying adults left every bathroom in Hogwarts clean. There were no spells to see into bathrooms or hear what was going on in them. No monitoring spells to see who was in and at what times. They were clean.

This fact was what brought all three of them into the Prefect’s bathroom that Harry had used during fourth year.

“So… let me get this straight. You are suggesting that instead of simply using the spells we researched and know how to cast, that we all take a bath together to have serious conversations.” Harry asked, just to ensure he was understanding her correctly.

“It’s a foolproof plan. If they suddenly stop hearing and seeing us often it will get suspicious, and when Ministry officials get suspicious, bad things happen. This way we don’t go off the radar so much; less suspicion.” Hermione sounded so confident and casual. Which would be impressive if she wasn't also red from her ears down to her neck and staring at the wall.

“Wait, sorry, I can’t seem to grasp this concept. You want to actually take a bath… naked… with two other equally naked guys?” Ron sounded incredulous. Hermione gave him a look.

“As long as nothing inappropriate happens, I don’t see the problem.” Hermione spoke as if to a small child.

“Nothing inappropriate? All three of us taking a bath together seems pretty inappropriate to me.” Ron shot back.

“There are such things as shared baths, or public baths, so really it isn’t that inappropriate.” Harry chimed in. Ron gave him a _Look_.

“Obviously if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to. It's not like I'm _forcing_ you into this, I just think it would be a good idea. And, well...public baths _are_ rather common in other countries so...it's not like it's a completely radical idea.” Hermione said, fiddling with the edge of her robes. 

Harry hummed and started to shrug out of his clothes. Hermione squeaked and quickly turned her back. Harry assumed that Ron was probably doing the same thing.

“I didn't mean right this second!” Hermione said as Harry stepped out of his chemise and skirt. He folded his clothes and put them aside, reaching out to turn the taps and start the water.

“I'm used to being undressed in front of all sorts of people who want to use my body for their own pleasure – being naked in front of you two, whom I trust more than myself a lot of times, isn't a hardship.” Harry said easily and that seemed to put the other two at ease.

Harry sank down into the water after he twisted his hair up into a bun at the top of his head. Hermione didn't bother, getting in next. Ron kept his eyes closed as he too sat down in the tub, leaning back once he had found a space. The three of them were careful to space themselves out so as not to make anyone uncomfortable and the water was nice and hot.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione seriously as they all got themselves situated.

“She’s dead.” The two blinked in confusion. “Lavender Brown. She’s dead.” He clarified.

“Harry, if she’s dead… then how is she walking around perfectly normal?” Ron asked.

“It’s not possible, even if a necromancer woke her, she would be… not normal. Almost as if she was under Imperius, wouldn't she?” Hermione asked, clearly trying to remember anything she had read about such things.

“Not necessarily. Someone who was messing with death magic, sure, anything they rose would be like an Inferi or, if they were talented and patient, like a victim of the Imperius. In the last case, the victim wouldn't even be rotting if they did it right. But a necromancer is another story entirely...”Harry trailed off and looking at the ceiling, thinking back. “But they also wouldn't go about waking her like this – it's not....well, it takes a lot out of you to do it this way. And for a whole school year? Allowing the body to go around with not just the soul manipulating it, but actively using magic as well? The amount of energy needed would kill most Necromancers and for what? It's not like she's an important political leader or a general of some army – she's a schoolgirl!” Harry said.

“So, that still brings the question of how, exactly, she is walking about.” Ron said, waving his hands around for emphasis.

“And why – because even if we figure out the _how_ , Harry does bring up a good point. Why go to this much trouble for a simple schoolgirl?” Hermione asked.

* * *

Draco was scared. This was their government? No wonder the Dark Lord wanted a change.

“ _Imperio._ ” Tonks’ voice rang out as she placed Cho Chang under the Imperius Cruse. Draco looked at his childhood friends _and realized something that was very hard to accept. He could not relate to them. As he watched while they smirked at this poor girl being made to do things against her will, he realized that he truly did not understand them. And, for some reason, that bothered him a lot more then he thought it would._

_ These thoughts were still running in his head after Umbridge and Tonks had dismissed the Inquisitorial Squad. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he walked right into his godfather. Upon realizing who it was, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. _

_“ Professor, I have to talk to you. It’s about Chang.” _

* * *

Harry was going mad. Absolutely, bloody mad. And it was all Draco’s fault. Ron looked over at Harry in sympathy. Harry really tried his best to pay attention to Draco’s words, but his lips were quite distracting.

‘I’ll be fine, if Ron doesn’t leave us alone.’ Harry thought to himself. And, as if he heard him, Ron stood up and left the room. Harry had a fleeting holy-crap moment. But Draco’s voice pulled his attention back to the blonde in front of him.

He really should be listening to his _words_ , the other boy was clearly worried, but his magic was so distracting like this – it was reaching and so familiar. 

Harry finally lost what little control he had and leaned forward to kiss Draco. Draco tasted of chocolate and rain. This was so wildly inappropriate but he was so done with denying himself this. How had he denied himself this? Why had he denied himself this?

* * *

Ron pushed Lavender away from him.

“Look, Lavender, Could you just slow down a bit?” Lavender looked at him in calculated confusion.

“Don’t you want to do it, Ron?” Lavender asked tilting her head in a manner that she thought was cute.

‘ _Crap. I need to be close to this gossip girl... how am I going to do this without having to have sex with her?’_

“Well, Lavender… don’t you think it will mean more if we wait?” Ron was desperately hoping that Lavender would agree, otherwise things were about to get very awkward.

“Not really. Everyone is doing it; why wait?” Lavender answered and there went that idea.

“Look. I don’t want to have sex with you. Not now, or ever. So, I think maybe we should stop dating.”

* * *

“What was that?” Draco asked, looking at Harry with a confused look. Harry had his hands on both Draco’s shoulders, keeping the other boy a safe distance away. He was looking away from Draco, eyes glued to the wall as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet.

“That was me doing something selfish and stupid. I apologize.” Harry responded, closing his eyes. He felt Draco’s hand on his cheek, forcing him to acknowledge the other person in the room.

“So, I take it you’ve wanted to do that for awhile?” Draco brought their foreheads together.

“Since third year to be precise.” Harry ran his hands down Draco’s arms, noticing the shiver Draco gave.

“Why?” Draco asked and harry felt very much like he would like to die, right now.

“Because.” Harry kissed Draco again, whining when the other boy pushed him away gently.

“It has something to do with the bond between us, doesn’t it?” Harry tilted his head to the right and smiled. It wasn't a particularly comforting expression.

“Yes. No. Does it really matter?” Harry asked and pushed Draco over, so he was straddling the other boy’s waist.

“Are you frightened of me, Draco?” Harry could hear it, the beating of Draco’s heart. It was loud to his ears, beating erratically. A steady drum that Harry would constantly have in the back of his mind now that the two were reconnecting.

(He shouldn't be doing this. This was...this was too much, too fast. He should slow down, go back to letting Draco slowly come to the conclusion that he wanted to be more than friends.)

“No.” Draco said and reached up to tuck a lock of hair back behind Harry's ear from where it had fallen. “You don't have to distract me like this, if you don't want to talk about our bond. Or about what this means, or why you want it.” He continued.

“We should talk about it.” Harry admitted but then he made himself a hypocrite by leaning down to kiss Draco again.

And they didn't talk about much of anything for awhile.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy did not sneak. He did not eavesdrop from around corners. He did not peek into offices, or tiptoe. He did not hunch, period.

He strolled haughtily. He sauntered. He happened to overhear conversations made by incautious idiots. He happened to find his way into other people’s offices when they weren’t there.

“Malfoy, what are you doing?” Arthur Weasley whispered from his “hiding” place. The two men were currently spying on Tonks and a young girl from Hogwarts, whose name escaped Lucius. The two of them were in the records room, looking for something or another. The Ministry tended to use the records room like a storage closet. It was hell trying to find anything in there, as things from laws to bloodlines were stored in the room. Even copies of burned or banned books were in this bloody mess of a room.

Speaking of blood, Lucius was sure this book next to him was a copy of _How To Do Blood Magic_ by some distant relative of his.

“Shut up, Weasley. I’m getting closer to hear what they’re saying.” He walked silently to a closer bookshelf. The bookshelf was nothing more then a very big, very wide pile of parchment and books. Lucius spotted the Potter and Longbottom bloodlines and quickly handed them to the other man.

“Very good Chang. Just get me that book over there.” Tonks spoke as if to a dog, petting the girl’s hair in a similar manner. The girl reached towards something out of sight. Lucius shifted where he was so he could try to see the young girl’s face. The first thing he saw was her vacant eyes, staring at nothing.

“Shit. The girl’s under Imperius.” He hissed at Weasley. The other man frowned, fire dancing in his eyes.

“Tonks put _a child_ under Imperius?” Weasley hissed, sounding furious in a way that made Lucius grudgingly admitted did the other man credit.

“Chang, take that to Umbridge.” Tonks said to the young girl and pushed something into the girl's hand. It was clearly a portkey, as the girl vanished within moments.

Lucius looked at Weasely, confused. ‘Umbridge?’ He mouthed to the other man. He couldn't think of why someone wanting to get something to the Minister's undersecretary would do it via a schoolgirl. Weasely turned pale, whispering a shaky reply to Lucius’ question.

“Umbridge is the new Defense teacher at Hogwarts.”

* * *

Harry was walking back from the Dungeons; he had just walked Draco back to his room. On the ground floor he saw the doors open and Cho Chang came slinking inside. She was holding something. Harry stood in the shadows of the entrance to the ground floor, waiting for her to pass him by.

Cho came into the light and Harry immediately recognized the signs of the imperius curse. He also recognized the book in her arms.

‘ _Shit, what to do, what to do?’_

He came out in front of her, blocking her way. Chaos ensued quietly and quickly. She whipped out her wand, his hand enclosed around it, and his other hand connected with the side of her head. She was unconscious before Harry caught her gently, ripping the book from her grasp. He shrunk the book and put it in his pocket. He pulled them both back into the shadows of the dungeon entrance.

It wasn't a moment too soon as Tonks was coming through the doors. He noticed that the suits of armor turned to look after her as she walked by, a few of them coming away from their positions to follow after her. The fact that they moved silently and were careful not to move too fast meant that the wards were activated.

On the one hand, that was a good sign, as it meant that they were acting as they should be. On the other, it meant that Tonks had done something the wards saw as a _threat_ and considering that he was holding Cho Chang's unconscious body it didn't take a genius to connect those thoughts.

He got his wand out and pointed it at her temple.

“ _Schicht Offen Spielzeug”_ Cho changed into a small plush peacock. He picked her up and shrunk even more into the shadows of the entrance way he was in. Tonks passed him by and Harry moved forward quietly. She went upstairs and disappeared into the empty room right next to the stair-top. If he went up those stairs she’d catch him, and he was out after curfew.

The stairs moved and Harry made his way towards them, walking up to the new landing. He looked towards the door to the room he knew Tonks was in. It was cracked open. The stairs leading to the second floor were in the middle of the floor, so he made his way towards them. Upon putting his foot on the first step the door he had been watching opened and Tonks was coming out. Harry froze, looking at her cautiously. She pointed her wand at him, he tensed, preparing to bolt.

“ _Stupefy!”_ The red light whizzed past Harry as he ducked and bolted upstairs.

“ _Confringo!”_ Harry was on the third floor now, running with Tonks chasing him. Two suits of armor had already been dropped when they threw themselves between them.

“ _Diffindo!”_ Harry dodged that spell as well. He would have fallen if the stairs hadn't sprang up to catch him. He catapulted up those stairs, hearing and feeling Tonks throwing magic at more suits of armor that were coming to slow her down. She shot something he didn’t catch and he dodged it. The spell hit a portrait and it collapsed into itself. He saw a flash of blond and red fly past.

“ _Stupefy!”_ Ginny and Luna’s voice rang out as one. He turned around to see Tonks dodge, grab Luna and throw her down the stairs. She cried out as she hit the forth floor.

“ _Confringo!”_ Ginny shouted. Her spell hit Tonks’ shoulder, covering Ginny in blood as it exploded. Tonks fell, but was getting up. Ginny turned to Harry.

“RUN!” Harry nodded, turning and heading to the stairs leading up. On the sixth floor he heard footsteps again, turning he saw Tonks, wand in hand, left arm ending in a stump. He pounded up the stairs once more, landing on the seventh floor.

As he got closer to a door, he realized that other than leading her away from other students he didn't have much of an actual plan – at least, not other than possibly maiming Tonks. He wasn't sure how much of a plan he needed to even have – if he stood still long enough for a spell to hit him, what would the wards do to her? She wasn't a Professor or an instructor, so would it be a lethal defense?

If it wasn't, _he_ would be. 

He threw up a hand as he came close to the door – he thinks its to an old study room – and flung magic at it to get it to open as he threw himself forward. The door slammed closed and he stuck to the floor as Hogwarts' magic circled around him in a rush of colors and pressure. When the magic stopped, it spat him out of what could only be the door to the Headmaster's office, as he fell in a heap before Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, and Mad-Eye Moody. Sirius shot up, helping Harry up, fussing over him in a fatherly fashion.

“Hi.” The occupants in the room gave him a funny look.

“What happened, dear boy?” Professor Dumbledore asked gravely.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucius and Arthur Weasley just finished telling Headmaster Dumbledore the events that happened in the Ministry when he flooed for Lupin, Black, and Moody. As the old man repeated the events of what he was told, magic slammed down on them, the wards of the castle making themselves known – and they did not feel happy.

The headmaster slammed his hands onto his desk, almost buckling under the weight, and Lucius found himself reaching out to help hold the older man up. The headmaster's skin almost seemed to buzz with magic and he felt his hair stand on end. His very _bones_ seemed to rattle and his ears felt like they were about to pop. 

Color seemed to bend inwards in the center of the room and Lucius felt his stomach heave threateningly. With a twist of air and a pop in his ears, Harry Potter appeared on the floor, thrown as if he was mid run when the magic grabbed him. The young boy was panting and his hair had tumbled forward, covering his face, and Black rushed forward to fuss over him.

“What happened, dear boy?” The headmaster asked, sounding exhausted. He almost collapsed into the chair behind his desk, might have if Lucius hadn't been there to help ease him down. Lucius wondered if Albus called everyone ‘dear boy’ to avoid having to remember any names.

Harry Potter took out a stuffed plushy – the way that magic shimmered over it told him it was probably a quickly transfigured living thing – and a shrunken book, which he handed to Black. Potter moved the plushy to the ground and spoke a reverse incantation. It its' place was the young girl that Lucius saw at the Ministry.

“Tonks attacked me when I stopped Cho and took that book from her. Ginny and Luna were, at best, injured from Tonks attacking them on the fourth floor, or the fifth, I don’t really remember.” The second young Miss Weasley’s name was mentioned Weasely was out the door, and after Potter finished his explanation, Albus told Lupin to follow the older man. Moody was dispatched to find Tonks.

Black put the book onto Albus' desk before going back to running his hands and wand over his godson, casting some mild spells to heal minor scratches and cuts. The younger boy held still for it and he stared at the young girl, who was standing as if sleepwalking where he had placed her earlier.

“I'm alright, Lucius; you can ease off.” Albus said to him quietly, which caused Lucius to jolt away from the older man as if burned. He hadn't been aware that he was still hovering nearby as if the old man was his grandfather, in need of help at a moment's notice. He felt the back of his neck heat in shame at the way his muscle memory betrayed him.

Moody stomped back into the office, a stunned one-armed Tonks hovering behind him.

“Who took off her arm?” Moody’s gruff voice asked, a lop-sided smirk on his face. Lucius snorted at the question – it was probably the castle wards.

“Gin'.” Potter responded and he finally reached out to gently push Black's wand hand away, whispering something that made the man clench his jaw.

Lucius found himself mildly impressed – even with the help of the wards, it wasn't every schoolchild who could say that she had _literally_ disarmed an auror.

* * *

“Luna, Luna, Luna.” Ginny called out to the fallen girl, crawling down the stairs towards her. The stairs seemed to flatten under her, make it easy to belly crawl down them, and she found herself thankful for it. Her knees burned something awful and she had been _terrified_ when she saw her girlfriend go flying. She had thought she would hear her neck snap, or something else horrific, but the castle stairs had twisted in a way that made Luna's impact with them less brutal. She was aware that she was crying, couldn't stop it as every drag of her legs seemed to pull at her kneecaps and she was just trying to stop herself from vomiting at the pain of it.

When Tonks' spell had it her, she hadn't been able to help it, throwing up bile and screaming even as her legs collapsed under her. Her own spell had gone wide and the stones seemed to echo her screams, suits of armor shaking apart. She wondered what that said of the wards, that they were apparently damaged enough that a clear defense mechanism like that had broken apart upon a failure. 

Bill would know, would be able to explain it and -

Her vision whited out as she slid down onto the landing, finally at Luna's side, and she sobbed as her legs jerked against her will. That might have been a nerve misfiring or maybe something had broken again, she wasn't sure.

“Well, well, well. This is certainly something I can use to my advantage. Good evening, Miss Weasley.” Umbridge’s fake simper was the last thing she heard for a while.

(She refused to call her a Professor. At this rate, she was doing more damage that Snape, who at least had a singular teaching credential to his name.)

* * *

“Why did Dolores want this book so badly, Nymphadora?” Albus asked the younger girl gently. She sneered and didn’t answer. This should have been impossible, as they had poured Veritaserum down her throat eight minutes ago. Harry was getting annoyed; Arthur and Remus hadn’t come back yet.

And the wards were still seething, buckling as a wild horse would under their first reigns. He didn't have time for this, there was something very wrong with the Hogwarts wards and he would have to attend to them soon. Try to figure out what had been done to them and when he did that, he would find out _who had tampered with them_ and make them very sorry indeed. 

He looked at Albus, who still seemed frail and tired from the magic cracking down upon him. He looked so old, he seemed so fragile. Harry bit his tongue and looked around the office, trying to take his mind of it, and his eyes landed on a candle stand. The candles were missing from its top, and it looked like it was there only for decoration. If Tonks was fighting against the Veritaserum mentally, what they needed was a good distraction for her...

“Tonks, what did she want with this book? What is it?” Lucius Malfoy tried this time, voice promising pain if there was no answer. Harry looked over just in time to see Tonks spit in his direction. Sirius made a frustrated sound, but he stepped forward when Lord Malfoy moved, blocking him from proceeding.

‘Alright, _enough_.’ He thought as he walked over and grasped the candle stand. It was heavy, probably actually made of copper now that he thought of it, which was good as that meant it held a certain weight to it.

“Tonks, answer the fucking questions.” Harry said, completely done with letting this continue. He had more important things to do. He felt eyes on him, could imagine that most of the people in this room were thinking that he was bluffing or perhaps hoping to act more the adult. Well, let it not be said that Harry didn't know how to use people's expectations against them.

“Think you’re a big boy, Harry, carrying that big thing around? As if you’d have the guts to actually – ” Harry cut her off as he swung the stand and felt it connect with her face with enough force that she went skidding across the floor a few feet. The woman whimpered and that seemed to be the distraction the drug needed to force the answers out of her.

“She – she wanted to give it to the Minister, because he couldn’t find it. Only someone who is related to someone who knows how to find it can locate the damn thing. The book – the book…” Here Tonks trailed off, ducking her head again as if to cry. She was definitely well trained in resisting Veritaserum – at least her training was good for that.

Sirius came over and took the stand from him as he changed his grip on it in preparation of swinging it again. He then shot a stinging spell at Tonks, who squeaked and started to talk again. Harry huffed softly and let himself be pulled against his godfather's side.

“The book is a recording of Merlin’s last years. It includes spells lost to time and potions. I knew where it was, but I couldn’t get to it myself, so I made Chang get it.”

“Why couldn’t you get it yourself, Tonks?” Sirius asked, his hands carding through Harry’s hair. Harry closed his eyes and let his mind unravel, searching for Ginny and Luna. He was worried about the two of them.

Many people forgot how that, while the mind is a private place, it has a signal unique to itself, like magic and fingerprints. It was all a matter of locating the right signal. But most people forgot this skill long ago, such was the nature of time and progress. Harry sighed; it always seemed to come down to time, didn't it?

Ginny’s mind and Luna’s mind had a very similar signal, with slight differences; proof that they where was was more colloquially known as soul mates, that they shared the love bond of _lumen cara._ Ginny’s signal was bright red, like fire, but warm as a mother’s embrace. Luna’s signal was bright as well, warm in the same way Ginny’s was, except hers was not red, but silver; silver like the moon she was named after.

Within a minute, he had located them both; they were together that much he was sure. They were in the castle, but before he could figure out where, his attention was abruptly centered on Ron and Hermione’s signals. The signals that were currently coming closer to Ginny’s and Luna’s at a running pace.

Hermione's and Ron’s signals were practically intertwined, both a blue flame licking at anything that comes near it. Hermione’s was brighter, warmer, while Ron’s was darker and colder. It was obvious that the two shared the love bond _mela zora._ Bonds were not a guarantee, not a promise or a prophecy, just an option. Sometimes it was...more like a remembered path that you could go on again, if you'd like. 

His gaze drifted back to Albus, who was leaning on his elbows and seemed grave. And old, so very old. Older than he had any right to be, really.

_(“He's going to give me grey hairs, I swear.”_

“ _Now you know what it was like raising you. Fun, isn't it?”She responded teasingly and the younger man next to her roared with laughter._

“ _You, with grey hair? You'd look beautiful either way, but surly I wasn't this bad!”_

“ _You absolutely were, Merlin! Your mother and I had our hands full with you, we did!”)_

No, he had no right to be so old.

* * *

Arthur saw his baby girl and the young lady with the blonde hair being carried off by that toad of a woman, Umbridge, and it was like something out of his nightmares. He was not fast enough, and he wasn’t about to risk either one of the children to get hurt by a spell, so he didn’t cast any at the woman. He just had to _watch her walk away with one of his children_. 

“Arthur, we’ll just follow her. It’s all right.” Remus’ voice made him jump a bit; he hadn’t known the other man was there with him. They made their way down the rest of the stairs, following the defense professor silently. They were utterly unprepared when Ron and Hermione came running around the corner opposite them. Apparently, so was Umbridge.

“ _Accio_ Ginny Weasley! _Accio_ Luna Lovegood!”

“ _Confringo!_ ”

Ginny and Luna went flying out of Umbridge’s arms. Ron caught Ginny, while Hermione barely managed to stay upright when Luna knocked into her. The blasting curse that Hermione sent was batted away and Umbridge turned her wand back towards the children.

Arthur saw red. With a shouted curse, Umbridge went flying away from his children. She lay slumped in a corner, as Arthur rushed to the children to make sure they were alright.

* * *

Draco knew he should be in bed, asleep, but he really couldn’t make himself fall asleep. He was giddy with lingering excitement from his time with Harry. He touched his lips for the nth time that night, savoring the memory of Harry’s lips against his.

Harry was gentle and passionate and so very patient. Every time they kissed, Draco felt the night sky meet them, encircle them in a tight embrace.

_(Screaming, crying, and insane laughing. There was lots of blood.)_

Draco frowned. It was happening more often, these glimpses of something that seemed so familiar, yet he knew he’d never experienced. Most people would think they were going crazy if such things were happening to them, but Draco was not most people. He knew people often times recalled moments of their past life. He figured that was what was happening to him.

To remember your past life was both a blessing and a curse. It meant you were more powerful because of the magic involved in breaking open the memories that your soul carried; it also meant that you were different. Draco knew that different often meant dangerous. But more importantly…

What if he had a soul mate that wasn’t Harry? The very idea made his chest tighten painfully; his world spun when he thought of this. It hurt to think, to move, to breath.

His world darkened as sleep finally pierced him, dragging him down into her watery arms.

* * *

“MY DAUGHTER, ALBUS! MY BABY GIRL!!” Arthur roared at the old man facing him. “THAT – THAT – _THING_ TRIED TO HARM MY DAUGHTER!! MY BABY GIRL!!”

Albus knew the Ministry would never take his word, or anyone’s word really, that Dolores had any intention of harming the two fourth years. Or, more worrying, they might not even _care_ and he wasn't sure which one of those options was the more worrisome.

“Arthur, my boy, please calm down. I realize what has happened, but we can’t do anything. The Ministry – ” Albus was cut off by Miss Granger.

“Shouldn’t even be interfering with Hogwarts; it is not within their rights, as technically Hogwarts is not on English soil. However, I see the point you are trying to make, Headmaster. Mr. Weasley, please think of Ginny’s safety, if Professor Dumbledore did tell someone within the Ministry what happened tonight: Harry would not be alone in the Media’s smear campaign. Or worse, because she is a Pureblood and a _Light_ Pureblood, Fudge could easily arrange for her to have an “accident” to make sure she doesn’t try to get the public’s sympathies. Right now, the only thing keeping Fudge in office is the public opinion. He would not think twice about killing a child to keep that as it is.”

Arthur sat down heavily on a chair, paling enough that it didn't look entirely healthy.

They were certainly a sight to behold. Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood were unconscious on two infirmary cots, with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger sitting next to young Miss Weasley on one bed, ignoring the two chairs nearby. Mr. Potter was sitting on Miss Lovegood’s cot, weaving the flowers Poppy had conjured for a nearby vase into a tiara. (The vase was once again empty.) Sirius looked slightly bemused as he watched his godson while Arthur were standing a few feet away, closer to the cot Dolores was on. Alastor and Remus were staring intently down at Dolores’s body, looking as if they were trying to set her on fire with their minds. Lucius was standing guard over Nymphadora, having yanked her down when Albus called everyone down to the infirmary.

Both of the bloodline books found in the Ministry records room and the book Nymphadora tried to make Miss Chang steal were still in his office, under the wakeful gaze of Fawkes. And a heavy anti-theft charm that was borderline a curse.

Miss Weasley opened her eyes slowly. Her older brother and Miss Granger smiled down at her, as Arthur came over to look her over. Before anyone could say anything, her eyes were alert and she sat up, looking widely about the room.

“Luna. Where’s Luna?” She sounded and looked panic-stricken. Mr. Potter waved his hand to get her attention.

“She’s here Gin'. Safe and sound.” The young lady tried to stand, struggling against the blankets and the low level locking charm Poppy had put on her legs to get them to reset correctly. Her older brother and father both tried to get to her, but they weren’t quick enough. She fell, as both her knee caps were still broken, in a tangled heap.

“Ginny!”

Arthur tried to pick her up, but she just flailed her arms about so he couldn’t pick her up, chanting Miss Lovegood’s name like a mantra. It was clear she was not to be deterred from seeing to her friend.

“Really, now, is this necessary?” Mr Potter asked as he stood up and moved over to Arthur. Albus felt his eyebrows climb as the young man gently shooed Arthur out of the way to bodily take the girl from him. He then moved her so she was laying down on Miss Lovegood’s cot.

Miss Weasley immediately gathered the other girl to her chest, softly running her hands through her blonde hair. Mr. Potter sat back down and continued to work on the flower tiara. Albus blinked and mentally reassessed the relationship between the two girls, feeling some amusement as Arthur once again almost collapsed in a nearby chair.

* * *

Molly Weasley was a woman on a mission. She knew something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones. She shoved her way through Diagon Alley, striding towards the Leaky Cauldron. Once inside, she could safely apparate home to see what the problem was. In theory, she could apparate right here but the chance of accidentally bringing someone with her increased. Ducking into a shop just to apparate out was rude, so here she was shoving her way through the crowd.

She made it to the Leaky Cauldron in record time.

Upon reaching home, she immediately looked at her clock. Among the normal “times” there was an added one: ‘In Danger’ was printed next to ‘Mortal Peril’. She figured it would be nice to know if her family members were in danger, and not necessarily in “mortal peril;” after all, being in danger is easier to get out of then being in mortal peril.

_(She hated having to add it back onto her clock. She was so happy to have taken it off once the war ended and to have to put it back on, reweave the spells back into place...it wasn't right.)_

Ron, Ginny, and Harry’s hands were pointed to “in danger,” Arthur’s pointed to “at school,” Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill’s pointed at “Lost,” and Percy’s pointed to “at work.” Molly watched in morbid fascination as her hand moved from “home” to “in danger.” She felt the meager wards around her home flail against her, like a swipe from a particularly annoyed house plant, and she bolted towards the door. Maybe she'd have enough time to grab –

The backdoor was blown off its hinges and two people in unfortunately familiar robes appeared in front of her with a crack, wands already raised. She threw herself to the side and reached for her own wand, hoping that the children of hers that were “lost” stayed that way.

Being lost was better than being in danger or mortal peril, after all.

* * *

“I think we can say we are lost, brother mine.” Fred said to his twin. Bill and Charlie, their older brothers, rolled their eyes.

The four Weasley brothers were in France. Bill and Charlie had brought the twins with them because they could speak very mangled French. Which was more than either one of their older brothers could manage of the language.

“Brother mine, I do believe one of us should ask for directions, what do you think?” George leaned towards Fred as he spoke.

“We don’t need directions! I know where I’m going! That spell lead us here, so obviously that manor is here somewhere!” Bill told his younger brothers in an annoyed tone.

Charlie sighed, as he looked around. The city ended a good mile behind them and there was nothing around in the immediate vicinity.

“Hey, maybe that’s what the spell tracked.” Fred and George spoke as one, which was unnerving to Charlie as they pointed to something a good three hundred yards away. It looked like…

A wall?

* * *

Sirius felt helpless as he was left behind, _again_ , as Remus went off to fight Death Eaters who were attacking the Burrow. He felt so helpless, even though his staying behind was supposed to be for the kids' sake, he knew better – he was being treated as a liability. He knows he could manage to escape if any aurors actually came to help defend the Burrow, it wouldn't even be that difficult. But, no, of course not, let's just sideline the young auror who sacrificed _thirteen-years of his life_ for the cause – he took a deep breath. That wasn't helpful and honestly, considering what just happened here, the kids _do_ need some protection. 

Ginny and Luna had fallen asleep wrapped around each other; Sirius thought they made a cute couple. Ron and Hermione had likewise fallen asleep, Hermione’s head pillowed on Ron’s chest. The only teen that wasn’t asleep was his godson, Harry.

Harry sat very still next to Sirius; the two had moved to chairs. Sirius wanted to talk, but he couldn’t find the words. He had a lot of questions for the boy, but he had no idea how to ask them.

“Siri'?” Maybe he might be saved from finding the words.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“You know I was once pregnant, don’t you?” Harry looked straight ahead, no doubt looking into his own past. “Madam Pomfrey told you, didn't she?”

“Yeah, she did. I just...by all the gods, I'm so sorry, Harry. I can’t imagine what – I'm just so sorry.” He said and felt wretched even as the words past his lips. He's _sorry_? Wow, way to really step up to the plate there, Padfoot, 10 points to Gryfinndor. He didn't even bother to stop the tears, at least they were better than a simple _sorry_. 

(Would James know how to handle this? Would Lily? Fuck, if they were alive that never would have happened to him  _at all_ .)

“Siri, what in the world – Don't cry, what have all of you been thinking, exactly?” Harry asked quietly and seemed to unbend to come over to gently take Sirius' face in his hands. He tried futility to wipe the tears away and Sirius made a wretched sound and pulled him into a hug. He probably shouldn't, the books said it wasn't a good idea to make sudden physical touches, but he couldn't help himself.

“I'll fucking kill that fat sack of shit myself, I'm so sorry. I'm such a – Fuck, Harry, I'm so sorry that happened to you and I couldn't do anything to protect you.” Sirius murmured into Harry's hair. Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around him and that was a good sign, right?

“Sirius. I need you to listen to me, okay?” Harry asked and pulled away to force him to look at him. Harry's emerald eyes seemed to shine in the dark – a for a moment it was like he was looking at Lily, in a darkened alley before a fight broke out, magic flying everywhere. “Vernon Dursley did not impregnate me. He – that baby was _not_ his.” Harry said strongly and his fingers near burned on Sirius' face.

Sirius wasn't sure if he wanted to believe him or not. On the one hand, that would be wonderful but on the other...well, Harry wasn't even legal  _now_ much less when he was projected to have been with child and with his size now...he wouldn't even be able to safely carry a fetus to term with his frame as it was now, with regular care. When he was – at the youngest – 12? 13? It would have been impossible.

“Who?” Sirius found himself asking and Harry hummed.

“It doesn't matter. I wanted it, it wasn't forced, and the aftermath was a mistake. One I wasn't expecting, which was stupid on my end, I'm aware.” Harry said.

Should he push this? Should he try to find out, try to see if it had left any mental damage? Should he -

“I love you, kiddo.” Sirius said and pulled him back into a hug. Harry easily went this time, curling into his chest like a much younger child, and he decided to just let this lie. If Harry wanted to tell him, he would.


	8. Chapter 8

Bill was confused.

“What the fuck is a WALL doing out here!?” And apparently so was Charlie. The twins just moved around the wall, taking in every detail. Bill and Charlie wondered if maybe Professor Dumbledore’s lead was just wishful thinking.

“Hey… this is the Malfoy crest.” One of the twins said and Bill wandered over to where they were pointing. Sure enough, carved into the stone was the Malfoy crest: A lily behind two crossed swords with the phrase ‘ _Je te protéger.'_ Always a family to surprise everyone, the Malfoys; one would think they’d have something Gothic and sinister, not a lily.

“This must be the old manor; an earthquake destroyed it, right?” Charlie turned to Bill for conformation. Bill nodded; he head heard that after the earthquake only Abraxas Malfoy was left. At age fifteen, he inherited the whole Malfoy fortune and promptly relocated to Britain. There was, at the time, gossip that Abraxas had summoned the earthquake to kill off his family.

“Bill, is this what we’re looking for?” One of the twins asked, jarring Bill out of his thoughts. He refocused his attention on the twins. They were pointing at something, which led his eyes back to the wall. He blinked in bewilderment.

‘ _Well, I’ll be damned.’_

“Yes, I’m guessing that is what we’re looking for.” A small portion of the wall looked somewhat distorted, like warped wood. To the average muggle, that meant the wall was simply old, but to a wizard that meant one thing: a very powerful ward, or several, was covering something up. Bill sighed.

“We’re going to be here for awhile.”

* * *

Arthur and Remus were back to back, firing off curses. A little ways away Albus and someone who Arthur couldn't make out were doing the same. Molly and Severus were inside the house, alternately gathering important things and fighting off the few Death Eaters.

A stray flash caught Arthur’s attention and as he turned to look at it, his heart seized in his throat. There was a body consumed in flames free falling out of Arthur and Molly’s bedroom window on the fourth floor. He hoped his wife was alright.

* * *

Dolores Umbridge woke with a headache, which only became worse once she remembered the events that led to her unconsciousness. She hoped the Minister got the book he requested; if not, she didn’t know what she was going to do. It had taken a long time to track down Chang, who was related to Dolores through some distant relative.

The book containing Merlin’s ancient secrets, a last accounting written by the man himself, could only be found by someone related to Dolores, as in _distantly_ related. It was some old trick, an old curse, placed upon her family line by Merlin. That was the theory anyway. Every time she looked upon its pages she saw nothing. _Nothing._ Knowing it was there was useless without being able to read it! So, she had climbed the Ministry ladder, looking into everyone’s heritage, trying to find someone, _anyone_ , that was related to her distantly. It took years, but she finally found Chang.

Over the years it took to locate Chang, she had fallen in love with power, money, and Cornelius Fudge. Sure, the man was married, but that didn’t stop him from pounding her into a desk every now and then. Her body grew hot at the very thought.

She opened her eyes and was greeted with Minerva McGonagall’s stern face. In an instant, she knew: Her pet Auror had failed: Chang did not give the book to Fudge. She was doomed.

* * *

Harry smelt death.

_I don’t want to die._

The scent burned his nose, inflamed his thoughts.

_I’m scared._

The watery abyss of sleep was not where he was supposed to be.

_I’m scared._

He tried to claw his way to the surface, force himself awake; he had to wake up. **Now**.

_I don’t want to die!_

* * *

Sirius was just starting to nod off when Harry’s previously asleep eyes snapped open. His godson stood up and faced the doors to the infirmary, staring ahead with such intensity that a chill went up Sirius’ spine. He saw Malfoy and Minerva – when had they gotten in? – turn towards Harry in confusion.

The doors opened with a bang and Sirius was up in a flash, wand drawn.

‘ _Nobody who means well opens doors like that.’_

In seconds, the infirmary became a battle ground. Curses flew, shouting drowned out thoughts, Malfoy dove to the right as a sickly green light smothered Tonks, and Harry was gone. Sirius was frantic, he could not see his godson, but he could not move from where he was. If he did, the kids might get hit by something fatal. They were still under the effects of whatever Poppy had used to get them to sleep, he couldn't just leave them.

“ _Lumos!”_ A short spurt of bright light flashed and it was over. Harry had two wands grasped in his right hand, his left wound in the hair of a struggling female student. When Minerva moved forward to address the situation, she drew back in horror when she saw who the female student was.

“Miss Brown?!”

Sirius wasn’t sure if she sounded more confused or horrified.

* * *

Harry was having a hard time breathing and seeing. Lavender was encased in darkness and he smelt rotting flesh. Her figure was so covered, he literally could not see her, thus the need for the lumos spell. Of course, the fact that the girl reacted so badly was also food for thought.

He felt sorrow creep up his spine; felt grief attempt to choke him. He clenched his jaw as he made a spur of the moment decision.

‘ _I will free her; I will give her back to Thanatos.’_

Fire spread from his hand to her hair, red-orange eating the strands. He heard shouting, but it was so distant, and then… silence.

_He opened his eyes to his field of flowers. He felt the long dress of night clinging to his body as he looked to his companion. He could see her now, a lot clearer then he had in a while. Her face was cut up, her nightgown torn, there was blood everywhere it seemed. She turned wide, frightened eyes on him._

“ _Harry, I’m scared. I’ve never really liked you, but I’m scared… help me. I don’t want to die.” Lavender’s fingers were twisted and broken, her nails missing on some. Had she been dragged?_

“ _I can’t help you, Lavender, you’re already dead. But it's okay, you won’t be in pain for much longer. You won’t be afraid.” His flowers were wilting, the sky was crying, and he realized Lavender was crying, too. He reached for her instinctively, unable to help himself from wrapping her in a hug, smoothing her hair down as she crumbled into his arms._

“ _Mama, Mama, Mama. I’m sorry I yelled at you, I love you, Mama, Mama.” She sobbed into his shoulder and he felt a deep wound on her back as he ran his hand up it. Thanatos glided over to them, silent and compassionate, warm and understanding, cold and cruel._

“ _My child, my precious child.” Thanatos spoke as a mother would, gently gathering Lavender into stone cold arms. Lavender sobbed, broken and dead, against the demi-god. Thanatos swayed, softly singing to the girl._

_A different singer’s voice was starting to become more pronounced and Harry narrowed his eyes. A necromancer was trying to find Lavender. Necromancers were children of Thanatos and Hades, born of their union. It was why they were so rare, because Hades and Thanatos were only ever allowed to make love once every decade. They could not indulge themselves anymore then that._

_Necromancers, for all their human qualities, were not human. A human could give themselves to someone or something. A necromancer could not – they belong to no one, but Thanatos and Hades. For a necromancer to try to belong to anyone was not only pointless, but it was fatal. It was grounds for extermination – for while Hades was possessive, Thanatos was selfish._

“ _Thanatos, one of your children seeks that one. What would you have me do?” Harry spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the two. The singing of the necromancer was turning into a low whine, a pathetic grovel. Harry sneered. ‘What manner of necromancer cannot sing properly?’_

“ _That child has let herself be owned by another.” Thanatos’ statement was met with Harry’s eyes widening, his mouth coming up into a cruel and cold smirk._

“ _Well then, I suppose that means I get a new play toy.”_

“ _Wait. That child is going towards your body. It should be easy to return to it and get rid of my wayward child.” The wind beheaded the flowers and the sky fell into darkness._

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes he was laying against Sirius’ chest.

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?” Harry blinked as he stared up at his godfather’s face. The older man looked tired.

“Mr, Potter, you killed her.” Professor McGonagall sounded cold. Harry sat up, looking at the charred remains of flesh and bones near the entrance.

“You cannot kill something that was already dead.”

Lord Malfoy was looking at Harry oddly. Professor McGonagall looked closely at Lavender’s remains, casting a few spells over them.

“What makes you think she was dead, kiddo?” Sirius played with Harry’s hair.

“I’ve known since term started. It seemed pretty obvious to me.” Harry said, bending the truth to fit into the holes he needed it to. “She always smelt like rotting flesh.”

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry critically for a moment and was about to question him further, when madam Pomfrey’s soft voice was heard from nearby.

“Nymphadora…she’s dead.” Harry looked over in mild shock.

‘ _Well, I’ll be damned. Lavender was good for something.’_

* * *

Dolores looked at the scene around her in a mixture of panic, fear, and denial.

‘ _You are the Minister’s most trusted; these people are in your, and his, way! Do something about it! Your pet is dead, Chang has obviously been found out, and you are alone!’_

She stood up shaking, bracing herself for the actions she was about to commence in.

“That child is a murderer! Potter has just murdered a student and an Auror in cold blood! And that man is Sirius Black! An AZKABAN escapee! When the Minister finds out that Hogwarts has been hosting him, I will maker sure, personally, that you are ALL locked away! I demand that you release me so I may, as my civil duty commands, inform the Minister right away!”

‘ _Breathe, Dolores, breathe. You are more powerful then anyone in this room; you have more power. Cornelius will notice if you suddenly stop communicating with him, therefore, they_ _ **cannot** kill you. Breathe, just breathe.’_

Silence prevailed and Dolores marched forward to grab the Potter child by his upper arm. He stiffened almost immediately in fear of her. The brat was skinny, and his pretty looks reminded her of the red-light district whores. As she moved towards the still open doors, someone else came through them.

* * *

Harry stiffened when Umbridge grabbed his arm, his attention catching on a figure that walked through the still opened doors. That was undeniably one of Thanatos’ children. Necromancers, to Harry, looked warped, distorted. And they constantly changed. One minute they were the pitch black of a bottomless abyss, the next, the white madness of an asylum. Their magic clashed with their bodies and thus Harry could see both aspects.

Typically, muggles auras were white; they looked white to Harry. The darker the color, the farther away the person was from a muggle. But no one could be black, barring a necromancer. They were mortal, but were children of Thanatos and Hades. Their magic came from beyond the shores of life, but it was caught in a previously non-magical mortal body; thus, the clash of white and black seen in a necromancer's aura.

The necromancer entering was a female with short, red hair. Her skin glowed with a soft touch of sun, her eyes were brown, and she was rather short and wore raggedy clothes. Harry sneered, this was not something he could tolerate. A child of Hades should have been cold and a child of Thanatos should be beautiful, not average. Necromancers were born with these traits, but when their looks descended, it meant that they had given themselves to someone or something. If Harry had any doubts about whether or not Thanatos was telling the truth, they were banished from his mind. A decrease in singing quality and appearance meant one thing: She had to be killed; she had given herself to someone.

Lucky for Harry, a necromancer who breaks taboo also had massive decrease in power. After all, you can't get something from nothing and if you no longer belong to the gods of death, then why should they give you any kind of power?

“Who are you?” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was wary and firm. Professor McGonagall and Sirius had moved to bring Madam Pomfrey to the children, so she could wake them from their drug induced sleep. At least awake, they weren’t sitting ducks.

“I am the Ministry’s necromancer. My name is Nora.” The woman said and her voice was grating. It was hard to believe that any kind of harmony could have come from that throat.

“You don’t deserve a name. You’ve given yourself up to someone else. How **dare** you come in here and pronounce that you belong to the Ministry?” Harry spat out the accusation, with every word screaming offense.

She looked at him, really looked, and he knew she had seen what he had been assigned to do. Her eyes widened in horror and a choked sound came out of her throat. Golden nets closed in around her and squeezed. It was like a balloon: she inflated until her body could not take the strain and then exploded into tiny little pieces.

Harry blinked, for he hadn’t done anything. Looking at his friends cleared up his confusion: Apparently, Ron had deemed it necessary to kill the woman himself. To say the other adults in the room were shocked would be an understatement.

* * *

“Alright, alright. Settle down. Obviously, we all need to talk.” Albus paused to clean his glasses and gather his thoughts.

“Harry Potter has killed a student that had been dead since the beginning of term and Ronald Weasley has killed a necromancer, something no one in this room can claim they have done. When questioned, Harry admitted to teaching Ron how to create and execute the spell used to kill said necromancer. This brings to light new questions: how and why would someone as young as Mr. Weasley be able to create and use such a spell? Harry claimed to know Miss Brown was dead: how did he know this? What are we going to do about Dolores Umbridge? How are we going to tell Nymphadora’s parents that their daughter died essentially a traitor? Are we going to allow or even think about young misters Potter and Weasley joining the Order?” Albus looked around the meeting table. Most were still in shock over hearing the events that occurred in the infirmary only an hour ago.

“Don't forget that the Burrow was attacked.” Severus spoke up. His voice was soft, no doubt in response to the laceration across his chest that was probably still healing from said attack.

“I also got word from Bill and Charlie: they said ‘they found it.’ What were they looking for, Albus?” Arthur posed this question, concerned that his sons were away doing something he had no knowledge about.

Albus heaved a sigh.

‘ _I’m getting too old for this.’_

* * *

Up in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny and Luna were curled together asleep in Ginny’s bed. In the boy’s dorm, Hermione and Ron were up, curtains drawn around Ron’s bed. They were finishing the last of their homework that they had ditched when Ron suddenly felt that his sister was in danger. It was taking a while because the two kept getting distracted by the other. Harry wasn’t there to keep them focused.

Instead, Harry was sitting calmly at the foot of Draco’s bed, down in the dungeons. He was trying to decide whether he wanted to wake Draco up or not, when the other boy chose for him.

“’Arry?” Harry bit his lip; Draco was so cute when he slurred his words.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for more or less going stalker on you, but I wanted to see you.”

Draco yawned before opening his arms to Harry, obviously intending to go back to sleep.

When Harry was curled around Draco, their legs intertwined and Harry’s head tucked under Draco’s chin, they drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Wormtail was in fear of his life. And for good reason: his Lord was mad… in more ways than one.

“WHAT DID IT SAY?! SAY WHAT IT SAID AGAIN!” Wormtail trembled under his Lord’s rage. Since his resurrection, his Lord had been obsessed with the prophecy concerning himself and James’ son.

‘ _Do I even have the right to call him James anymore?’_

Abruptly, he was thrown into a wall, his Lord’s skeletal fingers grasping at his neck, lifting the smaller man off the ground.

“What. Did. It. Say.” The words were spat out, and Wormtail could feel his Lord’s magic running wild across his skin. He was starting to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen, and he could feel asphyxia creeping up on him.

He was thrown from his Lord and hit the ground with a painful thump, just as the edges of his vision started to white out.

“No... it won’t matter, because I have _you_ … I’ll get what you need… I’ll get what you need… But what if it’s right? ‘Power to vanquish’ can mean many things… yes… but _you_ told me to wait… you told me to wait…” His Lord muttered to himself, walking back towards his throne.

Wormtail shook as he crawled closer to the door, trying desperately not to make any unneeded noise. His Lord had been doing this recently, talking to himself out loud. It made the rat-like man wonder if his Lord was possessed or simply mad. He wasn’t sure which one he would prefer.

He was in front of the door when his Lord started to laugh, great gasping laughter that shook the foundation of Wormtail’s soul with fear. His Lord’s magic went wild and became an almost tangible force, crushing Wormtail to the ground.

And then it was over. And Wormtail lay gasping for breath on the ground, curling up around himself as the magic sunk into his skin. His fake, silver hand melted, ripping some muscles out of place as it went. His Lord laughed as he screamed in pain.

“I find myself lacking some of _it_.” Wormtail gasped and screamed in pain as a spell ripped open his stomach, his intestines spiraling out of his body like vines.

_It was the very first day of school and Peter sat all alone in a compartment on the train. He bit his lip as the scenery changed outside the window. What if he never found any friends?_

_At that moment, the door slid open and two other boys came into the small compartment. Both were taller then he was and had black hair. One had slightly longer hair than the other, and the other's stuck up at impossible angles. This boy had glasses and a kind look in his eyes, his mouth upturned into a mischievous grin. The other, long haired boy’s eyes were stormy, clouded with annoyance, but his mouth was set in a firm smile. As if the smile would make him feel better._

“ _Hey, I’m James Potter, and this is…”_

His Lord laughed, high pitched and wild, as every bone in both legs shattered. Tears stung his eyes as they fell freely and his throat burned from the never-ending screaming.

_Peter stuck close to James throughout the rest of the day, and when the other boy was sorted into Gryffindor, Peter was determined to be sorted into that house as well. The other boy – Sirius Black– had also been sorted there, but that didn’t really matter to Peter as much._

He couldn't breathe.

_Sirius brightened considerably when Remus Lupin came down to breakfast; it never failed, even two weeks into school. James always sighed and gave a small laugh as Sirius would immediately get up, grab the small boy, and force him into sitting so close Sirius was practically eating around him._

_Eventually, Remus stopped needing to be dragged over, but he did choose to sit a tad bit further away from Sirius._

He screamed and gasped for air as his eyes were pulled out of his sockets. He pleaded and begged for death, not caring that the Dark Lord was laughing that horrible, sobbing, gasping, high-pitched, wild laughter.

_It was their last year at Hogwarts and as Sirius danced with Remus under the sunlight by the lake, James and Lily talked quietly under a tree. Peter found that he hated Lily for stealing James from him. It wasn’t like he was in love with James, but dammit, he’d been here first!_

“ _Hey, lovebirds! We’re going to take a picture, come on!” Lily’s voice rang out, getting Sirius and Remus’ attention. They ran over, Sirius plowing into James with that barking laughter and Remus chuckling._

_James and Sirius had their arms thrown around each others shoulders, Sirius’ other arm was around Remus’ waist. Peter was in front, James and Remus’ hand on his shoulders as Lily took the picture._

He wondered where that picture was and if James would ever forgive him.

_The four of them, laughing so hard they were almost crying._

* * *

Everything was going down the drain. Dumbledore had sent letters to the members of the Wizengamot, calling for a vote of incompetence against him. The Ministry’s necromancer had been killed, as proven by the crumbling rock in his hand.

The rock had been found in the vaults of the Ministry, tucked away to never be seen. In fairy tales, it was said to resurrect human souls, but in reality it granted a wish from Death. If you wished for someone to return, return they would... just not the way the wisher had wanted.

On top of that, his secretary Dolores was found dead outside of Hogsmeade and there was no one he could blame without it blowing up in his face. An owl flew into his office, bearing the crest of the Wizengamot. The envelope was green and functioned somewhat like a Howler, only instead of screaming at you, it enabled the whole Ministry and all of Diagon Alley to hear anything written within it.

They were only ever used for one purpose.

He whimpered when it opened.

“We of the Wizengamot have reached a decision concerning the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Based upon evidence submitted by various persons and affiliations, we find Cornelius Fudge unfit to be Minister of Magic. As such, he will be stripped of his position immediately and forbidden from any job concerning political factions. We of the Wizengamot have also decided that any person or persons placed in Azkaban under the former Minister of Magic will be released and or cleared of all charges. That is all.”

* * *

Out of the many prisoners in Azkaban, only three were supposed to be let out and cleared by order of the Wizengamot. However, it turned out that the auror sent to retrieve those prisoners had a very distinct tattoo on their forearm and had other plans.

Thirteen people were released, instead of three.

* * *

The headlines that morning were insane, hysteria was widespread.

“ _Mass Break-out From Azkaban; Ten High Security Prisoners Missing!”_

“ _Former Minister’s Revenge?”_

“ _Dolores Umbridge Found Dead In Hogsmeade! Harry Potter’s Doing?”_

“ _Harry Potter Cripples The Ministry Of Magic!”_

“ _Dementors Missing From Azkaban! Spotted Near Hogwarts; Harry Potter Calling His Army?”_

And on and on, the headlines speculated one thing or another. But they all came back to the same conclusion: Harry Potter was to blame for everything.

Seamus found himself absolutely disgusted by a large population of Hogwarts. Everyone seemed to be eating this up; no one cared that their gossip had made Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave the Great Hall; no one cared that several of their classmates, including Neville, looked absolutely devastated by the news of the Azkaban break-out; no one even cared that not two minutes before the post came in the Headmaster had told everyone that Lavender Brown was dead. No one cared about much of anything and it absolutely disgusted Seamus, because he had been just like them yesterday, before this nonsense.

No one cared that these events proved Harry right: the Dark Lord was back. And no one cared.

Seamus didn’t know what to do. His mother had told him to stay away from Harry, based on the _Daily Prophet_ , but this… this was getting ridiculous. And not just a harmless kind of ridiculous, but a more dangerous kind.

‘ _Harry isn’t the type to hold immature grudges. I’ll apologize for being an ass, and we’ll go from there… now where to find him? Should I just go down to class and hope to see him there? I suppose that’s my only hope; thank Merlin we have History of Magic.’_

Mondays were usually hell, simply because fifth-year Gryffindors had History of Magic with forth-year Ravenclaws. At the same time, forth-year Gryffindors, and Hermione, had Ancient Ruins with the fifth year Slytherins. Mondays schedules had all sorts of years being shoved together into classes because of the sheer amount of students either behind or ahead due to the Triwizard Tournament.

Thus the reason his seat was next to Looney Lovegood and behind Harry’s. Lovegood was reading The Quibbler sideways and writing something absentmindedly on a piece of parchment. Harry looked like he was already taking notes, which was, of course, ridiculous, as he normally slept during this class.

“Oi, Harry.” As expected, Harry did not look back but Ron did. Seamus was very used to Ron’s overprotective nature towards both Ginny and Harry, so the glare that was given only stung slightly.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. To Harry.” That got Harry’s attention. The smaller boy turned around and the look on his face made a chill go up Seamus’ spine. When he was younger he thought the chill was from awe – after all, what eleven year-old can look at someone with that amount of patience? – but now that he was older, he recognized the chill for what it really was: fear. His instincts were telling him to run for the hills, but everything else was saying it was fine; that it’s just Harry.

“Well?” The annoyance in Ron’s voice jolted him out of his revere. Harry placed a calming hand on Ron’s arm and smiled at him. Ron turned around, grumbling.

“Well, reading the newspapers this morning… everyone is so blind. I’m not stupid, I know how to read signs… Well, I guess…” Here it was, no turning back. Seamus took a deep breath and looked Harry right in the eye. “I’m sorry, Harry, for the way I’ve been treating you this year. You were obviously right.”

Harry looked at the other boy for a long moment, causing Seamus to squirm, before a smile finally overtook his face.

“Apology accepted. Give me your parchment real quick.” Seamus blinked. _‘That's... an odd request.’_ But he handed the parchment over.

Harry drew what looked like a star with his wand over the center of it, whispering “ _altus_ ” when the star was complete. The parchment glowed briefly and then returned to normal.

“This is a spell I designed,” Ron explained as class started. Binns droned on, not even caring if anyone was listening. “It allows two or more people to talk to each other secretly. To an outsider it will look like you’re just writing notes about the lesson, no revealing spell works on it, and you’ll never need another piece of parchment to finish a conversation. It deletes prior conversations completely, as well. It was a bitch to make.” Ron made a disgusted face then, as if he couldn’t believe he spent so much time on something like this.

Then it sunk in.

“ _You_ designed this? Ron, the spell work for something like that alone is NEWT level! Ron, if you got this spell published, your family would still be rich when you're nothing more then a memory!” Seamus whispered frantically. Ron looked decidedly embarrassed, as he turned around to feign paying attention.

The parchment warmed a little under his fingers and when he looked down orange handwriting was appearing. It started from the top right and cascaded down to the left bottom corner.

“ _Don’t embarrass Ronald so much; it isn’t good for his health. The Slag-Tarenents might decide he tastes good. – L.L.”_

Seamus blinked and then realized that “L.L.” stood for Luna Lovegood. He slid his eyes to her profile; she was looking forward, staring at a spot in the corner with a dreamy look. He picked up his quill and started to write.

“ _What are Slag-Tarenents?- S.F.”_ His words were aqua, reminding Seamus of the lake outside Hogwarts. His words, unlike Luna’s, were in a semi-straight horizontal line. And even though he hadn’t written his initials down, they appeared anyway.

“ _Slag-Tarenents are half-bird half-rat creatures that feast upon the flesh of embarrassed teenagers. My dad told me about them.”_ Apparently, the spell didn’t feel the need to place Luna’s initials after her message, which just impressed Seamus more.

‘ _Ron’s spell work for this is phenomenal. Flitwick would probably make it his life’s mission to ensure Ron became the best master’s apprentice, if he knew about this spell!’_

“ _Not to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but I’m calling a short meeting. Seamus and Luna: You are about to be joined by myself, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy. Seamus: Don’t argue with Draco. Draco: Same. –H.G.”_

Grey words with shadows underneath them appeared slowly and, like Seamus’, they looked conventional. This was obviously from Hermione; Seamus could tell because he knew what her handwriting looked like.

“ _I’m not going to argue with Finnigan, Hermione. I’m not a child. –D.M_ _.”_ Purple words fell from the top right to the bottom left in a lazy procession, stretching as if they could jump right off the page.

“ _Oh, I could so argue that…–G.W._ _”_ Black ink flowed from nowhere to form a perfectly centered phrase. After several seconds, Seamus realized that this must be Ginny’s message.

“ _But you’re not going to. –H.P._ _”_ Green text, precise and centered, quickly showed itself on the page, two words per line with the last word centered. Obviously Harry.

“ _So, what are we talking about, Hermione?”_ Seamus was curious, and a little wary of discussing anything while Draco Malfoy was listening – well, reading – in.

“ _I wanted to ask everyone if they are interested in learning a little self-defense from Harry in their free time.”_ Something about the proposal seemed a little odd, and the words seemed skittish, almost like they wanted to be erased for suggesting such a thing.

The responses seemed to come in rapid fire, some appearing at the same time, crisscrossing over each other until it all made sense.

“ _That seems like a good idea, count me in. Maybe we should involve more people than just us?”_ Ginny’s words were perfectly neat, but something about them seemed…ponderous. Almost as if she was right here in front of him and he could see her tilt her head in thought.

“ _We’re uneven, we should include a Hufflepuff.”_ Luna’s orange words looked so much brighter, coming after dark colors. Her phrase touched Malfoy’s purple one.

“ _If we all gang up on Harry, he won’t be able to say no. Yes, I realize that you are reading this, Harry, and no, I don’t care.”_

“ _Great idea, ‘Mione! That way we won’t be sitting ducks in the face of the War.”_ Ron’s statement sent a chill down Seamus’ spine. It didn’t really seem to hit him until now, that the war was really coming. And Ron was right, the way most of the students at Hogwarts were, everyone was a sitting duck.

“ _Merlin… I just realized. This school is going to be massacred if You-Know-Who comes; our Defense classes are pathetic! Death Eaters aren’t going to stick to the legal spells that we know how to defend against!”_ Seamus’ untidy scrawl seemed just as alarmed as he was.

“ _I hate you all. But Seamus’ example is the one to convince me: This school would be a sitting duck and the perfect target. Fine. I’ll give you extra lessons, but how do you want to do this? Teach you everything you should know up to Seventh Year? Go beyond that? Tell me what to do, oh great planner that is my lovable sister!”_ It was the most Seamus had seen Harry write, and it looked eloquent and perfect. A bit long, since every two words demanded a new line, but very neat; though the last sentence was a joke Seamus could have done without.

“ _Harry, you frighten me. Seriously, you go from gloom and doom to professional interest, and then to joking in the span of a few minutes.”_ Ginny’s writing seemed just as eloquent, only not quite as amused.

“ _You almost made Hermione burst out laughing. Have you any idea how mad she would have looked? We’re doing one of the semi-difficult equations today, and to have our resident bookworm burst out in hysterical laughter would_ _not_ _have looked good…”_ Strangely, Malfoy’s messages looked messier then Ginny and Harry’s.

“Why don’t we discuss this at length after classes? That way Fred, George and Neville could be included.” Ron’s words caused an image of the Weasley Twins levitating everyone upside down to pop up in Seamus’ head. He hoped they wouldn’t use any of the pranks they'd learned...

* * *

“Don’t you even care that she’s dead, Harry?” Dean Thomas was caught between horror, incredibility, and indifference. The indifference baffled him, but he chalked it up to the fact that he wasn’t very fond of said dead person.

“Not particularly, no. I care more about Lavender Brown then I do Dolores Umbridge. Why does this shock you? I wasn’t particularly fond of her, Dean.” Harry sounded tired; bored of this discussion.

“That sounds horribly cruel.” Dean’s voice was so small it was almost a whisper, but it carried across the empty, unused classroom they were all in.

Everyone seemed to be scattered around. Ron and Hermione were standing next to Harry, who was sitting on one of the desks. A few feet away, on another desk, Luna and Ginny were toying with each other’s hands, pressed so close to each other it looked indecent. Draco and Neville stood by the window and door respectively, looking inward to give everyone their attention. The twins were sitting on the ground. Seamus and Dean were across from Ron, Harry, and Hermione; a little Hufflepuff girl named Eleanor was fidgeting in her seat beside Seamus and Dean, almost mirroring them.

“I’m a horribly cruel person.” Harry responded in a sharp, quiet voice. A few people snorted. Dean couldn’t tell who. Harry smiled his creepy smile, or his scare-the-crap-out-of-anyone smile, as Dean secretly referred to it, before talking again.

“I realize that to some of you, I don’t seem like a cruel person at all. And in a sense, those of you that think that are wrong. I can be incredibly cruel if I want to be. I can be a little vindictive bitch, for lack of better term. And, if we go with what Hermione is suggesting, you will all have to realize this fact.” Harry’s voice always sounded so musical, even if he was threatening someone. Over the past five years, Dean had fallen asleep to Ron, Harry, and Hermione’s hushed conversations and Harry’s voice had never failed to inspire a truly abstract dream that Dean later tried to preserve through art. It was magical.

“And what –”

“Would that –”

“Idea be –”

“Harry dear?”

The twins spoke their perfectly choreographed broken speech, which all blended together into one voice to Dean.

Hermione cleared her voice to get everyone’s attention.

“We all know that Harry is… strong. We all know that at the end of the third task he faced…”She took a deep breath here, as much for her sake as everyone else’s. “Lord Voldemort alone, and yet here he is. Everyone in this room has seen what Harry is like when he is angry; we all know that he could easily best the current seventh years and is very good at defending himself. We’ve all heard the rumors that he was dueling with the Durmstrang students last year and we’ve all had him help us with our homework at least once.” She paused again and looked at Ron who took over the speech.

“Hermione, Harry, and I have been through a lot of shit these past years, as you all know. However, what none of you know is that Hermione and I would be dead, many times over, if not for Harry’s knowledge of magic and defense in general. Hermione’s idea is that we all… train… under Harry, learning the different things he can teach us. I can already see the question forming behind everyone’s eyes ‘What can he teach us that we can’t learn ourselves from our books or the older years?’ My answer to that: A hell of a lot more. Harry grew up learning advance magic, learning magic that is forgotten now, lost to time and age. He knows so much more then our books and can teach so much better than our books can.” He stopped here, swallowing a few times, readying himself for the next part.

“Some of the things we will learn… are considered illegal by our Ministry, but we’re heading into a War where our enemy has sunk into our Ministry so far that it no longer cares for its people. Hermione and I are not stupid, and neither are any of you: we all know that if Lord… V-V-Voldemort came here, this school would be screwed. The least we could do is try our best to ensure that not all of us will be running like chickens with our heads cut off when it happens.” Ron trailed off, looking at everyone’s reactions to his words. Dean could guess what he saw: a strange mix between utter terror and determination.

Harry stood up, using Ron and Hermione to help himself to his feet. He looked… fragile. Skinnier than the two flanking him, and smaller… more breakable; but that image fell away when he spoke.

“Ron and Hermione are making this sound so good, but I do have something to add. I was trained by immortals, experience, and memories. And as such, this isn’t going to be easy for you; there will be sessions that you will wish you were dead, or that I was. You will know pain and exhaustion. There will be moments that you will hate my guts. You will feel useless and frustrated with yourself. You will feel confused and you will learn more then you have in your life. I will not let any of you slack off from your schoolwork; in fact, I will expect it to be near perfect quality. House rivalries will be suspended, and you will get along with each other. I will teach you more then just magic and defense, whether you like it or not. Does everyone understand?”

“That sounds thrilling.” Luna’s voice carried as she trailed her hand down one of Ginny’s arms.

Harry smiled, looking excited for the first time in months.

“We need a name.”

* * *

Between Quidditch practice, classes and curfew, it was hard to schedule training sessions, as Harry called them. Everyone’s schedule was chaotic and subject to change, so Hermione decided to always meet on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. If a session needed to change for any reason, the new date would show up on everyone’s charmed parchment.

And thus, their first “session” came up. And with it came rain.

“Well, first off, I want to… get a feel of what your magic is like. So, to do that, I want each of you to hold this ball in your hands and answer my questions as honestly as you can.” Harry held up a ball the size of the standard snitch. It was completely made of crystal.

“As I only have one, you will all do this in turns, and while I’m getting a feel for your individual magic, you can all practice the standard disarming spell ' _Expelliarmus.'_ Yes, I realize the majority of you know that and yes I realize it is something taught to first years, but you’ll all do it anyway. That way, I don’t have to monitor what you’re all doing as much. Fred, you’re first.”

From where everyone was sitting on the dusty ground, one of the twins got up and made his way over to Harry, who was sitting in a darker corner. The room they had chosen was deep in the dungeons, beneath the lake and very cool. Shadows danced wherever they pleased, spiraling closer to the light from the chandeliers, before twirling away.

“I said Fred, not you George.” Harry smiled at the red-headed twin, who grinned at him sheepishly. Fred quickly made his way over.

“Perhaps we could do this together?” Fred asked, grabbing his brother’s hand. Harry looked between them, considering the option, before he frowned and shook his head.

“No, Fred first. George, go practice the disarming spell, and yes, I will kick you if you decide to goof off.”

Hence, everyone decided to listen to Harry and practice the disarming spell. Neville and Eleanor had some problems with it; Dean couldn’t say the incantation correctly; and Seamus couldn’t actually disarm anyone. The others, who could perform the disarming spell flawlessly, helped the others patiently as they could.

Meanwhile, Harry gave the snitch-sized crystal ball to Fred, who took it with a bewildered look. The ball was cold and felt fragile in between Fred’s hands.

“Imagine something that makes you happy. Anything.” Harry’s words were gentle and his gaze briefly turned to Draco before returning to Fred.

The ball glowed lightly, somehow becoming even colder in his hands, as it flashed through a bunch of different colors before settling on a deep red.

“Set that down, will you?” The ball didn’t move, just patiently sat on the nearby desk. “It turned red, meaning your magic is better for defense. Was it cold or hot or in-between?” Fred blinked at the odd question.

“Cold.”

Harry nodded, writing something down on a piece of parchment.

“What you are holding is a ‘magic crystal’ or a device that finds and reads your magical core. Each person has a certain type of magic. It is part of what makes us all unique; whether the type of magic makes a personality or a personality makes a type of magic is up for debate, but in the big picture, it's not that important. Your twin is next. Go help Neville for me, will you?”

Three hours later, Eleanor and Neville finally mastered ' _Expelliarmus_ ,' with some help from the twins throwing hexes at them. Harry had everyone categorized by type of magic and what skills could be determined from that reading. He didn’t tell anyone what any of their results meant, wanting to wait until their next meeting to explain.

Everyone left feeling exhausted, to the point where they fell asleep before dinner even started.

And being asleep, they were not present when Peter Pettigrew’s deformed, bloodless corpse dropped into the Great Hall. They were asleep when the screaming started and they did not hear the Headmaster order everyone to their dorms, and they were not awake when he ordered that no one was to be in the neighboring dorms.


	10. Chapter 10

“You were _asleep_?” Professor McGonagall's voice was incredulous. Harry tried to hide his yawn, leaning his head sideways onto Draco’s shoulder. Harry was tired and Draco was warm.

“Mr. Potter, are you listening to me?!” The Deputy Headmistress’ voice was piercing.

‘ _No.’_

“I’m sorry. But, I really don’t see why we’re in trouble. We were asleep when Professor Dumbledore told the school that students were to remain in their dorms.” He replied. The older woman pursed her lips, looking at the group of teenagers in disapproval.

They were all rudely awoken that morning by the irate teacher, who escorted them to the Headmaster’s office, not even giving them time to get out of yesterday’s clothes.

Fred, George, Eleanor, and Neville were all on the stretched out love seat against the wall. Neville looked like he’d ate his toad and Eleanor looked like a kicked puppy. The twins, true to their reputation, were looking around with apparent boredom, no doubt having been in this office many times before.

Ginny and Hermione were sitting in two plush chairs, purple and orange respectively, while Luna and Ron were sitting on the arms. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were looking at Professor McGonagall sheepishly while Luna was looking at a shadow above McGonagall’s head.

Harry yawned again, turning his head into Draco’s neck; he smiled faintly when Draco stiffened briefly before relaxing again.

“Mr. Potter, please stop cuddling with Mr. Malfoy and pay attention!”

“Professor McGonagall, I’ll take it from here.” Albus Dumbledore’s voice sounded amused and as Harry peeked out from Draco’s neck, he saw the old man twinkling in his direction. Vaguely, Harry knew that the older man was caught between happiness and sorrow and as horrible as Harry felt for it, he couldn’t bring himself to care as much as his heart was telling him to.

“Mr. Potter, I think you will be pleased to know that Sirius Black is going to be completely pardoned by sunset today, or that’s how things are looking so far. Now, onto why you’re being punished: I’m not sure if any of you are aware of this, considering that none of you were at dinner, but Peter Pettigrew’s body was portkeyed into the Great Hall.” Silence. Harry bit down on Draco’s neck softly, wanting to laugh when the boy shuddered.

“But wouldn’t someone need the actual location of the Great Hall to achieve that? After all, a portkey is useless if it isn’t told where to bring something.” Fred and George’s voice blended into one. Unbidden, an image of the Inquisitorial Squad practicing the Imperius curse on Cho Chang came to Harry’s mind. He noticed that it was from Draco’s point of view, complete with the horror and disbelief he had felt that night.

“The Inquisitorial Squad was practicing an Unforgivable on a student, under orders from Umbridge, who was under orders from Fudge, who was under orders from the Dark Lord. So, essentially, they’re Death Eaters in training. Maybe they’re the ones who got the logistics?” Draco’s voice sounded calm and collected, but Harry could feel the uneasiness radiating from his mind. Harry traced the faint outline of his teeth on Draco’s neck with his tongue, barely holding in his laughter when he felt Draco tense and his heart speed up.

“Yes, that is rather what I thought as well. This means, of course, that you are in a rather dangerous position, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry could practically feel Draco’s eyebrow lift.

“Actually, that means I’m in the same position I’ve been in all year, and that position will become dangerous if I don’t handle it properly. For instance, me being here is putting me in more danger, given what happened last night.”

“So is the fact that everyone knows you and I are at least friends.” Harry said as he paused in licking Draco’s neck.

“Yes, but I can explain that one away. All I have to say is that I’m trying to convert you; it’s been working so far.” Draco’s fingers came up to play with Harry’s hair, probably of their own violation, given the rather contemplative look on Draco’s face.

Albus sighed, leaning back in his chair. His gaze switched to the Weasley twins.

“Dear boys, do you have any information about the recent errand I sent you and your older brothers on?” The twins blinked, becoming serious all at once. They spared glances at everyone else in the room before turning to Albus.

“Nothing that Bill and Charlie haven’t told you: the book appears to be a journal of some sort. It’s written in Latin – like that book of Merlin’s. French is a little like Latin, as you know, so we were able to make out one word from the first page: General. Well, it could have been “leader” but we recognized some military schematics so we're assuming it meant “general”. Everything else you already know.” Fred said while George nodded along.

“What are you talking about?” Eleanor’s soft voice squeaked out. When the Headmaster turned to look at her, she clamped her hands over her mouth and stared at the old man in terror. Albus gave her a kind smile, eyes twinkling in amusement.

“As you no doubt know, Ms. Gunn, the Weasley twins here were gone for a few weeks earlier. They got back recently. They, with their older brothers who are out of school, went on an errand for me. Don’t worry yourself about it, dear girl.”

Harry yawned again, once more burrowing into Draco’s neck. Thank Fortuna he wasn’t playing Quidditch today.

‘ _Wait… the game is today... We need to be seen at breakfast, or bad things will happen.’_

“Uh… Headmaster? About not putting Draco in any unnecessary danger… If we don’t want him in a bad position, he needs to be seen at breakfast.”

* * *

“And Draco Malfoy has caught the Snitch! 150 points to Slytherin, Slytherin wins!” Lee Jordon’s voice boomed across the pitch as the student body went wild.

Harry and Hermione screamed while Ron and everyone else in the Gryffindor stands clapped with mixed enthusiasm. Harry was jumping up and down, clapping and spinning in place. Ron saw more then one longing look go to Harry’s skirt, no doubt hoping it would flip up and reveal more then it should. He glared at every student that had that longing in their eyes.

As far as Ron was concerned, the only one allowed to look at Harry’s skirt in that manner was Draco Malfoy. And, as Harry and Hermione ran ahead to congratulate the Slytherin team, he could see that Draco also shared that sentiment, considering the death glares he gave his team.

“Congrats! Now, we can utterly destroy you guys when it’s time for our match!” Harry said laughing.

* * *

Remus had been enjoying a nice cup of tea when Bill Weasley rushed into the kitchen.

“REMUS! Look, LOOK!” Bewildered, Remus took in the young man’s appearance: disheveled hair and clothes, a wild look in his eye, a manic smile on his face, and an arm waving what appeared to be a special edition of the Daily Prophet.

‘ _If it’s something else about how the world is ending and it’s Harry’s fault I’m going to kill someone…’_

It wasn’t. In fact, after reading the headline, Remus could feel his whole body freeze up. Bill whooped and gave him a bear hug that would have crushed his ribs if not for the fact that Remus was a werewolf.

“Anyway, got to get back home… Mum and Fleur might need help getting dinner ready. And Charlie and Dad send their regards. Albus is coming over later to help with the Burrow reconstruction; maybe you two will want to come?” Remus nodded numbly, only half comprehending what was going on around him.

Ten minutes later, Sirius came down.

“Oh, I thought I heard Bill… Moony, you okay?” Remus looked up, a glazed look in his eyes.

“Remus? Hello? There’s nothing wrong is there?” Sirius was starting to sound alarmed, so Remus did the only thing he could think of. He threw himself onto the other man, kissing him so passionately that Sirius’ hip hit against the kitchen table.

And, as clothes were flung off and Sirius was pushed onto the table, the Daily Prophet sailed to the floor, the headline in bold print for everyone to see:

“ _Sirius Black Pardoned for the Murder of Lily and James Potter!”_

* * *

“So, where are you taking me?” Draco asked as Harry pulled him along. Harry had dragged Draco into the Forbidden Forest as soon as he was out of sight of his team.

“I want to show you something.” Harry sounded excited, which seemed entirely strange to Draco. What could be exciting about being in a forest that harbored creatures that could kill humans with minimal effort?

Eventually, they came to a clearing. The canopy of leaves parted and let the sun shine onto a small lake. The water was translucent and sparkled merrily. A waterfall roared away opposite them, partially concealed by a massive boulder.

Harry let go of his hand, took off his shoes and stepped into the water.

“You said, that time, that you wanted to see it again, see me dance.”

Draco remembered; when they were in limbo, he saw Harry dance for him in one of the creeks he had summoned. It was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen; Harry had been breathtakingly beautiful in those moments.

“Thank you.” Harry’s serene voice said and Draco tried not to die as he realized he had said that last part out loud. And then Harry was dancing; lifting the water to flow around him, stepping from stone to stone, arms twisting in fluid movement, bending at the hips, hair flying in a seemingly choreographed movement.

Harry was cleared of most of the rocks near the shoreline, twirling and moving his body to an imaginary tune. Water formed half created images before breaking apart from Harry’s arms slashing through them.

And Harry was in front of him, smiling at the half surprised look on Draco’s face. Harry gently took his hand, pulling him into the water. It wasn’t as cold as Draco thought it was going to be, but not as warm as he hoped it would have been either. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling him close. The water got deeper as they went further in, and briefly Draco thought that perhaps he should rid himself of some clothes, lest he drown in them. Then, Harry adjusted his grip on Draco, somehow managing to pull him closer, and the idea quickly fled him. They were closer to the waterfall, some of the mists from it sprinkled over them every few seconds.

He wasn’t sure which one of them moved, but suddenly they were kissing. It wasn’t like their first kisses, desperate as if they were pressed for time, but slower, gentler.

_Legs around his waist, fingers twisted in his hair, a gasped breath._

Draco’s fingers wound themselves through Harry’s long locks.

“ _I love you, and I always will even when I’m no longer in this form.” Lithe arms around his neck; a soft and slow dance to no music. He loved this woman in his arms._

Harry pulled away from him, drawing him underneath the waterfall.

“ _I love this forest.” She said lying down next to him, smiling as the breeze played with the bed of flowers they were resting on._

There was a cave behind the waterfall. The water got shallow abruptly, just enough for them to find their footing, the water at their necks.

‘ _I’m going to die here…I’m sorry, Aife. So sorry…’ Pain, unbearable pain, not just physical. He knew that this would destroy her, crush her heart and extinguish the fire he loved so much. He only hoped they’d be able to find each other again, with Aife’s stubborn streak he was sure they’d be together again. And with that last thought, peace swept him up into her arms._

“Draco? You alright?”

“ _Aiden? You alright?”_

Draco looked at Harry, who seemed to shift between himself and someone else. His voice and the voice from his memory lined up, matching almost perfectly. Harry’s was deeper, but not by much; but that wasn’t what was similar, it was everything else – the tilt of Harry’s head, the worry shining through his eyes, his green eyes. Draco’s head was spinning, and as an idea came into his head, he briefly thought he was really going crazy.

“I’m alright… Aife.” He looked up as he said her name and knew he wasn’t crazy. Harry looked shocked, almost devastated.

“You haven’t called me that… in a long time.” And as the floodgates opened, everything came back to him.

* * *

“Alright, everyone shut up.” Harry’s voice was so sharp it could have cut through stone. “I’m going to tell you all about what types of magic you all have. Now, there are eight main types of magic, as divided by The Council of Hanwills - Healing, Defense, Sensory, Offense, Light, Dark, Elemental, and Objective. People do not just have one out of the eight, often times they have five or six types all jumbled together. It doesn’t mean anything to have all eight types of magic, just as it doesn’t mean anything to just have one.” Harry looked around at everyone briefly.

“I’ll give you all a quick breakdown of each: Healing is the ability to use your magic for manipulation of the human body; most of the time people with this ability become medical personnel. However, you can also use this ability to stop the lungs from taking oxygen, thus killing someone.” Hermione’s hand shot up into the air, and Harry blinked a few times before calling on her in an amused fashion.

“So, basically you’re saying that no single ability is just ‘light’ or ‘dark?’ It depends on the person’s intentions?”

“Yes, even the most harmless of spells – say _Wingardium Leviosa_ – can be used for ill. If you levitate someone off a cliff, for instance, and then let them fall you just killed someone. So, intentions are very important, not necessarily what type of magic you have. And, I'm going to circle back around to your definitions of _light_ and _dark_.

“Defense is the ability to defend. Yeah, I know, that needed a lot of explanation.” Everyone laughed briefly at his attempt at a joke. “But, seriously, people with this type of magic are generally very talented at making wards, shields, and cloaking things. For some reason, they also tend to be better liars. Offense is the opposite of Defense; it is the ability to attack. People with this category are good with hexes, curses, breaking wards, and can typically handle a weapon with deadly precision. And, most of the time, they’re terrible at lying.

“Sensory is the ability to use your senses to your advantage. Empathy, psychometry, dowsing, Legilimency, and the seer ability all fall under this type. Generally, people with this type of magic have very sensitive nerves; if they were held under the Cruciatus curse their nerves would actually start to disintegrate before they go crazy.

“The Light and Dark category have nothing to do with a person being ‘good’ or ‘evil.’ It has to do with their natural leanings towards either end of the magic spectrum. Just because something is called ‘Light,’ doesn’t mean that it is ‘good.’ Take the hanging spell, for instance. The hanging spell was designed for the hanging of signs, dead livestock, and cooking utensils. Today, it’s outlawed by our current Ministry because it has been used to hang people by the neck. And, on the flip side, just because something is ‘Dark,’ does not mean it is ‘evil.’ Take the disarming spell. That’s a dark spell, but almost every Auror can attest to using it at least once.”

“Whoa, wait. The disarming spell is Dark Arts? Are you serious?” Seamus asked incredulously. “There’s no way that’s true; Hogwarts wouldn’t teach it if it was Dark Arts.” Harry smiled at him.

“Dark Arts is a branch off of the Dark category. The Dark Arts are classified as: ‘Magicks that exploit, harm, influence, or disrupt balance between the planes.’ The disarming spell is _not_ Dark Arts, but it _is_ Dark. It’s like saying that a unicorn is a horse, but a horse is not a unicorn. The Dark Arts also have one other thing that makes them Dark Arts: they corrupt the blood, tainting it. Dark Arts, like everything in nature, has a counter. Their counter is called Magicks of Heaven. Sounds nice and all, but as with the Dark Arts, the Magicks of Heaven corrupt the blood; instead of tainting the blood, the blood crystallizes within the body. Eventually, your body becomes a living stone, trapping your soul inside it forever. We’ll talk more about Dark Arts and Magicks of Heaven at a later date, so just keep in mind what I’ve said about them.”

“Has that ever happened?” Eleanor’s voice squeaked out, sounding horrified. Harry smiled encouragingly at her.

“It would have happened to Merlin, were he not murdered. But, I’ll talk about that when I come back to the Dark Arts and Magicks of Heaven. Good question, Eleanor.” The younger girl blushed.

“Now, Elemental and Objective types are counters to each other. Elemental is using the elements: Water, Fire, Air, Earth, and Metal. Elementals also have better chances of manipulating or distorting time and space. Objective means using objects to do your biding. Telekinesis and other forms of Parapsychology fall under this category. Granted, most objects have the elements in them, but it’s not really the same thing. A door frame is made of wood, but the wood is dead, an Elemental wouldn’t be able to control it the way an Objective would be able to. So, now that that’s all explained, I’ll tell everyone what types of magic they have.”

“Fred, you’re categorized as having Elemental, Dark, Defense, and Sensory magicks. As Fred’s twin, George, you have Objective, Light, Offensive, and Sensory magicks. Most twins have only one magic type in common, the rest are opposites. That’s how you can tell if two people are true twins or one soul split into two different bodies. Eleanor, you’re categorized as having Healing, Offensive, Light, and Objective magicks.”

Eleanor squeaked, and Seamus and Dean laughed.

“Offense? You gotta be joking; she can’t even attack a fly!” They both burst out laughing. As they were laughing, boiling water was flung onto their faces.

“OW! Dammit, that BURNS!!!” Harry frowned at them.

“That’s the sting Eleanor feels when her friends make fun of her. Eleanor doesn’t have what it takes to be confident enough to harm those that desire to harm her, but she’ll gain that confidence. And I’m not going to have anyone in here bully her like the rest of the people she may encounter in life. So, knock it off.” The two boys nodded.

“Now, as I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, Luna you have Healing, Defensive, Sensory, and Objective magicks. Ginny has Offensive, Light, Healing, and Elemental. Notice that even though they only share one type, they have one set of opposites. That means their relationship has a bigger chance of lasting for a long time; that they’re compatible. Of course, that only works if you believe that Magic makes the personality and not the opposite.

“Seamus, you’re categorized as having Sensory, Objective, and Defense. Dean, you’ve got Offense, Light, and Sensory. Neville, you’ve got Healing, Sensory, Light, and Elemental. Just because Neville has neither Defense or Offense doesn’t mean that he’d be utterly useless in a battle, it just means that his magic isn’t good for one or the other; often times that means one would be equally good at both.

“Ron, you have Offensive, Elemental, Dark, and Sensory. Hermione, you have Healing, Light, Objective, and Sensory. And there we have the opposites and one set of similar things. Ron and Hermione’s magicks are compatible, but that really shouldn’t shock anyone.” Here, Harry stopped to throw the couple a small grin. A few people snickered.

“Moving on, Draco, you have Dark, Offensive, Sensory, and Objective. And now for me. I have Dark, Light, Defensive, Sensory, Elemental, and Healing.” Silence followed.

“Does anyone know why I have a set of opposites?”

“You’re super cool and powerful?” Fred and George inquired as one voice. Harry grinned at them.

“Thank you for thinking so, but no, that isn’t the reason. The types of magic you have don’t make you more powerful or weaker then anyone else. Anyone else?”

“You’re equally good at both?” As soon as Ron said it he frowned. “No, wait… Neville has neither because he’s equally good at both. So, it can’t be that you’re equally good at both.”

“Very good, Ron.” Hermione’s hand shot up into the air, regardless of the fact that no one had raised their hand prior to her. Harry smiled at her, amused by her behavior.

“The crystal could sense both in you, like maybe your core is Light but Dark magic has been cast on you, causing it to become confused?” Answering a question with a question was something Hermione really didn’t like to do.

“That’s the closest to the truth. The reason my magic has both Light and Dark is because my core is Light, but this body is Dark. A little known fact: My mother was adopted, she’s considered ‘muggle-born’ by name only; no one knows what or who she was before her adoption. However, from looking at my body, certain guesses can be made. I prefer bloody meat, I can go long periods of time with no food, I can outrun a werewolf during a sprint, my nails are hard and sharp - even though my nutrition history should render them useless – and I can withstand extreme temperatures. This is only possible because this body is at least partially vampiric.” Seamus and Dean’s jaws dropped, Eleanor went white, and Ginny and Ron looked like they just solved a puzzle. Harry smiled at everyone.

“Don’t be alarmed, I’m not after your blood. My mother must have been a descendant or perhaps her blood was sealed, which would mean mine would be as well, as that kind of thing is carried over genetically. Technically speaking, I’m not even enough of a vampire to have some of their natural allergies and you’ve all seen me eat food. I just retain a few of their… quirks.”

“Sealed? What does that mean?” Eleanor’s soft voice squeaked.

“Sealed means sealed – to lock something away, but often times not completely or permanently.

“For me to teach you, you will all need to put your faith in me more then you do now. You will need to trust that when I tell you to jump, I will make sure you land safely. You will have to trust me to dictate your actions in a manner that will not harm you. But, we’ll get to that another time. It’s late and we have classes tomorrow, so meeting adjourned. Good night, everyone.”

* * *

He watched his Lord from under a mask, his cloak tight around him. This was right, this was safe. His Lord was the safest choice for him; the Light would fall under this man’s feet. That’s why he was here; that’s why he has essentially pissed all over his family’s beliefs and taken the Dark Mark.

It did not matter that as time went on he was becoming increasingly frightened; it didn’t matter that in the back of his mind he was screaming, it did not matter that he had nightmares of killing Dolores Umbridge; and it did not matter that Bellatrix Lestrange was _fucking crazy_.

Lestrange laughed manically as she made some muggle woman eat her child’s insides, her husband stood silently next to her, looking for all purposes as if he had been Kissed, though there wasn’t a Dementor in sight. The two were without masks, most likely the only ones not afraid to show their faces.

Antonin Dolohov – he was recognizable even with a mask – was lounging against what remained of the family’s house; a boy no older then his little brother, Ron, was sucking his cock like a trained whore. Augustus Rookwood – he was always recognizable due to his odd way of walking – came out of a neighboring house accompanied by his bloody lover, a woman only slightly less crazy then Bellatrix Lestrange. From what little he knew of her, she liked to watch her husband eat muggles alive, sometimes even partaking in the acts herself. He knew Rookwood walked the odd way he did because one of his legs was shorter then the other, due to some unfortunate accident.

The small town they were currently terrorizing was a joint muggle/magical town; his Lord was informed of this place by one of the residents. He tried not to think of who sold out this place, tried not to think about what reason they had to bring His Lord’s wrath down upon these pathetic people. But, he couldn’t help it. He wondered if it was over some petty thing, some stupid misunderstanding that would haunt whomever told of this place even in the next life. He wondered if this place was peaceful; did everyone get along? Were there arguments?

He was brought out of his musings by a grunt from Dolohov. He looked over just as Dolohov shoved his latest plaything to the floor and climbed atop him, flicking his wand – the youth started sobbing and struggling, whatever magical control he had been under broken. He looked away, disgusted, and his eyes went to the Lestranges, who were looking with interest at where his Lord stood. His Lord was summoning all the Blood Traitors, the ones that were alive at least, to the town’s water fountain, which he stood upon.

“My friends, my newly freed friends, amuse yourselves with these Blood Traitors! These muggles and mudbloods that dare to try and live in harmony, as if they were equal. Show the United Kingdom why you are Death Eaters; show them why you were once their nightmares; show them your strength, and show them your anger at these disgusting fools!” Cheers went up around him, and as if renewed by their Lord’s words, everyone around him seemed to become more vicious.

“Percy, darling, you really need to lighten up. Our Lord is rejoicing that our friends have returned to us, join in the festivities!” He looked to the one speaking, someone he thought he knew once upon a time. She was beautiful, blood on her robes and a head with no accompanying body clutched in her hand. Her eyes, the only part of her face he could see easily, were sparkling with a kind of wild happiness. This was his Penelope. This was the woman he abandoned his family for; this is the woman he abandoned his morals for; and this is the woman he forfeited his heart to.

Dolohov was finished with the boy, who lay in a puddle of his own blood and tears. Penelope gently removed her mask, an action which Percy mirrored, and their lips crashed together like the coming tide. He wrapped his arms around her and she shot off a killing curse at Dolohov’s ruined plaything.

* * *

“As you can see, a spell like this would be vastly useful in a battle situation. As much as I hope none of you will have to use it in such context, it is best to at least have the knowledge. Now, your homework will be for you to answer the following question in a well structured essay: What are the potential drawbacks to this spell?” Remus smiled at the groans his students gave.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry gathered their things together and waited patiently for the room to empty. As their classmates were filing out, the trio clustered around Remus.

“I think this was the first class where we got to use our wands this year. My fingers are practically vibrating with joy.” Hermione said, completely ignoring the fact that the reason her fingers were vibrating was because they were freezing.

Christmas was coming to Hogwarts and everyone seemed to be a little more high strung than usual. It was a well known fact that the Dark Lord was back now; it was one of the first things the newly appointed Minister of Magic spoke about. Amelia Bones had been voted in as Minister of Magic by the Wizengamot at an emergency council not three days after Fudge had been booted. She would finish his term, which was up in two years, and then a formal election would once more be held. Or so was the plan thus far. Hermione knew things might not turn out that way if the war was still going on in two years.

“For the assignment, can one of the drawbacks be how long the name is? Because, quite frankly, if it takes more then a few seconds to say the damn thing, that can be a serious problem in a battle situation.” Ron finished with a chuckle. Remus gave him an appraising look.

“I’m glad to see you’re so interested in your schoolwork, Ron. Yes, that can be considered a drawback. And it’s a valid one, because you do have a point; seconds can mean lives in a battle situation, after all. Oh, but I hate to say this: Five points from Gryffindor for crude language. Stop cussing, Ron.” Remus smiled as Ron rolled his eyes.

A few feet away from them, Harry sat on a desk, looking towards the door with rapt attention. If Hermione concentrated enough, she could just sense what she knew was Draco’s mind coming closer. She knew all the mental signatures of every staff member in Hogwarts, all the DA members, and a handful of other students. Most of her fellow DA members were just a few people behind her in memorized signatures.

The door opened to admit Draco and Harry was out of his seat instantly. Harry and Draco’s signatures were so interconnected it really boggled Hermione’s mind. They were like puzzle pieces, fitting together better then perfectly.

“Hello Draco, glad to see you. Maybe now Harry can calm down.” Remus teased. Harry paid him no mind, pulling Draco more into the room.

“Guess what?” Harry placed a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips, while Remus rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“Sirius said he’s going to adopt me.” Draco smiled down at him, carding a hand through Harry’s hair.

“That’s good.”

* * *

It had been awhile since the three of them felt the need to bathe together. The Order was no longer monitoring dorm rooms, no doubt because they were tired of hearing gossip and sex. So, all things technically considered, what they were doing wasn’t necessary. But, they did it anyway. And, if Ron was completely honest with himself, he knew it had a lot to do with the fact that Hermione was naked, barring a towel, and wet. Having Harry there was just to keep himself from doing something incredibility stupid.

“I think all of you are progressing nicely. Eleanor even beat Neville in last weeks spar.” Harry murmured from his end of the luxurious bathtub. His head rolled to the side so that his neck was bared and his hair everywhere.

“The twins are rather surprising; their pranks have gotten even more ingenious because of all the knowledge you’re giving us. They may very well be able to open up that joke shop of theirs.” Hermione’s voice made him look over at her. She had taken her textbooks with her and waterproofed them so she could study.

‘ _Typical Hermione.’_ He thought with a smile. Of course, he liked watching her study like this as opposed to watching her study in the common room; at least here he could see quite a bit of her cleavage. She looked up at him, an amused look adoring her face.

“You gonna stop staring at me anytime soon, Ron?” He cracked a smile at her.

“You gonna stop being so beautiful anytime soon, Hermione?” Harry giggled softly, causing both of them to look over at him.

“It occurs to me that you two must have some immensely strong self-control. Well, I suppose we can all get out now. People will start to wonder otherwise.” Getting out, dried and dressed didn’t take that long. Each of them left in ten minute intervals, so getting back to the tower was easy enough. Harry vanished into the woodworks, most likely to see Draco, and Ron was left with nothing to do but study.

As each went their separate path, Ron realized that sometimes he hated having pesky things like morals and self-control.

* * *

_Dear Ginny,_

_Arthur has told me about you and your girlfriend, Luna. Dear, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me something so important about yourself_

Molly stopped writing. She frowned, she couldn’t sent this; it sounded too judgmental! She cleared the parchment of ink to start over.

_Dear Ginevra,_

‘ _I never call her Ginevra unless I’m angry at her, and I’m not angry at her…’_ Molly cleared the parchment again. She looked around the kitchen. Bill was at the Burrow, helping with the reconstruction and rewarding. Charlie and Arthur were away on Order business, doing who knew what.

Fleur walked into the kitchen, grabbing some tea for herself. She briefly glanced at Molly, silently inquiring if she wanted some. Molly declined. The house she was staying at temporarily belonged to the Delacour Family. Molly wasn’t sure what hurt her more: the knowledge that Bill had been seriously dating someone and didn’t bother to introduce the girl to his mother until absolutely necessary or the fact that her daughter had hidden something so important as her sexuality from her. She sighed and restarted her letter.

_Dear Ginny,_

_I’m hoping that this letter finds you in good health; your knees are completely healed already, right? I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there when the whole business went down, but luckily your father was there. As I understand it, Tonks was the one responsible for your injuries; I still can’t believe that such a well behaved girl like that could turn out so horrid. Kisses from your mummy, in hopes that you are completely healed._

_Your father also told me about Artemis Lovegood’s daughter, Luna. She was sorted into Ravenclaw, just like her mother. I was friends with Artemis while in school, so was your father, of course. She was a wonderfully intelligent girl, and later an intelligent woman; I was distraught when I heard she died. Luna must’ve been nine when Artemis died, poor girl._

_Speaking of Luna, your father tells me you and her are in a relationship. I do wish you would have told me yourself, dear. That way I could have prepared a proper Christmas gift for Luna, but all I can manage now is a scarf. On that subject, Ginny, dear, I really must wonder if you two are…intimate yet. You’re both still oyung, so don’t feel like you have to rush things! Oh, but if you are, remember that being gentle is a wonderful way to go about things! Gentle is always safe, and if you have any questions about anything don’t hesitate to ask me. Granted, I’m not sure how things of that nature work between women, but I’m sure I could find out if you needed to know._

_Love,_

_Mum_

' _There, I think by the end of that I have safely mortified her and established that I have no problem whatsoever about her choice in partner. Well done, me!’_ And with that, she rolled the parchment up and tied it to an owl. She stretched as she watched it fly towards Hogwarts.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that are familiar with the history of the Welsh Language, you will notice that something that is said in here can’t possibly be correct given the time period Welsh was invented. I am well aware of this fact and I am claiming Artistic License. If that annoys you, I am sorry. I’m also taking artistic license with the character Merlin and one of the two men he is based off of.

Arthur was in a state of shock. His wife was sobbing brokenly into a handkerchief next to him, her despair rolling off in almost tangible waves. The few Order members around them were grim.

“Molly, perhaps it would benefit you to go back to headquarters? We can deal with things here without you.” Kingsley spoke softly, his hands gently touching Molly’s shoulders. She shook her head, a broken sob issuing from her throat. She took a deep breath, standing straight as if trying to physically hold herself together by sheer force of will.

“You’ll need me to help with the… the c-cleanup.” Molly hiccuped, starting to fortify herself. Kingsley squeezed her shoulder once more before walking off towards the ruined fountain. The scene was familiar to them, something they had seen during the First War. Something they had nightmares about even during the peace afterwards.

Heads – woman, men, children, even animals – were impaled on sticks which protruded out of the circular base; they had no hair and no eyes. Hands and feet were displayed in a grotesque field of flowers around it. The torsos, arms, and legs still attached bar the hands and feet, were piled together like rocks piled over a grave. The fountain, which was cracked and had pieces strewn about, appeared as though it was bleeding.

The rest of the village wasn’t much better; where buildings once stood, there now only remained ash and dust. Hair and eyes were scattered about haphazardly, if one did not watch where one stepped, fragile parts could easily be crushed. And above them, high in the sky as if mocking them, the Dark Mark lay.

“Molly, we’ll need your help now. Can you manage?” Albus sounded so tired, so ancient. A few of the younger members gave him concerned glances, clearly praying he wasn’t getting too old for this. Molly wiped her face and put the handkerchief away, then nodded once and got her wand out.

Molly was needed to remove the Dark Mark from the sky. The mark was like fabric, just waiting to be unraveled. Thread by thread was pulled out from it, until there was nothing left of the abomination; it took at least an hour and it was an exhausting job. While Molly worked on removing the Dark Mark, everyone else gathered the bodies and cleansed them by fire – if they were buried the Dark Magic still in the corpses would contaminate the ground, leaving the earth barren save for the stench of rotting plant life.

Just as they set about cleaning up the remains, _Daily Prophet_ reporters descended upon them like vultures to a battleground.

* * *

Eleanor tried to pretend she was asleep. She desperately hoped she was a good actress or that they just didn’t notice her. No one ever noticed her before Harry and right now she hoped against hope that they weren’t as sharp-witted as he was.

“The Dark Lord does not care about what was _supposed_ to happen, he cares about _what did happen!_ You utter idiot! Have you any idea how this is going to look? He’ll kill you, you pathetic child! He’ll _kill you_! You said you’d be able to lure Potter into a false sense of security and you haven’t even _talked to him!_ What are you going to tell him?” The boy sounded harsh. Eleanor could hear the other girl he was talking to crying.

‘ _Why can’t they leave? Leave, please leave!’_ Eleanor didn’t know how much longer she could hold her shaking inside. She was terrified, but she _couldn’t_ start shaking, they’d discover she was there!

“Please, you have to help me. If I don’t meet him this weekend, he’ll kill my little sister! She’s only eight! Please, you have to help me, Warren.” She pleaded with the boy, Warren.

“I can’t help you, Marietta. You said you could do it, so you should have done it.” Warren walked away, right by the couch Eleanor was.

She had to tell Harry, she _had_ to; he’d know what to do. As Marietta walked past her, Eleanor held her breath. She had to tell Harry.

* * *

Draco stared into the fire as if in a trance. He was in Severus’ office, waiting for a chance to talk to his father. With Yule so close, Lucius had come to see Severus and both men retreated into Severus’ room about an hour ago.

Held in his hands were the dolls Harry had made for the two currently absent men.

_There was a small girl crying against Aife’s chest; the older girl holding her close with a pained expression – it was obvious Aife thought of this child as hers. The little ten year old clutched at her, hoping that she could hold Aife there, that she wouldn’t have to go to Hogwarts and leave her for a year._

“ _Diamond, Diamond, calm down. Here, I’ll give you this, so you can have a bit of me while you wait to see me again.” The little girl looked up and Aife presented a small rag doll._

Draco remembered that Aife had always been good at making the dolls ever since – ever since… something. Someone taught his soulmate how to make them, once, a long time ago. He couldn’t remember who or even what gender Harry had been then.

‘ _How long have we been together? How long have we been living and dying? Harry remembers things – was it always like that?’_ Draco didn’t know if he could bear having Harry remembering everything, even things he didn’t want to remember. Did he remember them dying, just as vividly as Draco did? Did he ache when he thought of people long gone? Had Harry always remembered him, even when he and Draco fought? Did he ache all those times Draco had said he hated him, or even implied it? Did it still hurt to see Albus sometimes, because the man looked so much like…so much like… Who?

It was a name on the tip of his tongue, on the tip of his memory. This had been happening a lot lately; Draco remembered his last life, but it was obvious that there were even more behind it. He watched the flames dance together and thought of nothing in hopes that he’d remember things on his own.

He remembered the first time he met Tom Riddle. The boy was just like every other first year – nervous and apprehensive. He remembered seeing Diamond next to him, and the threads that tied the two of them together. Aife was alternately happy and distressed, the bond those two shared was not a bond to be trifled with; it was one of the most dangerous bonds out there. And tied to such strong children, who would only grow stronger...the draw between them would be so hard to resist. And even if they _did_ resist it, even if they hated each other, that could be just as dangerous as if they fell headlong in love.

He remembered that Tom had been a typical orphaned child – he had his bouts of loneliness, moments of unhappiness and cruelty. But, he had been intelligent, clever, and not without a heart. His heart may have been guarded with barbed wire and cut glass, but he still had one. The child and young man he remembered had very little in common with the Lord Voldemort he had become.

Their only similarity seemed to be their power and intellect. The love and compassion Tom had shown a select few was gone. The utter disgust at massacres and people drunk on power had vanished, and in its place there was blood lust and a thirst for power. What had happened to the child he remembered? What had happened to the young man who had been so frightened that Aife would not let him date the woman of his dreams? What had happened to the man that was close to hyperventilation on his wedding day? Draco smiled as he remembered that day.

_As a to be brother-in-law, Aiden looked on in amusement as Tom paced in his room. The poor man was practically hyperventilating, he was so nervous._

“ _What if I mess up? What if she says no? What if someone objects? Bloody hell, what if she doesn’t show up and Aife is the one who appears to hand me a letter? What if Aife kills me for marrying her little sister? What if -?” Aiden started laughing. Still chuckling, he placed his hands on Tom’s shoulders._

“ _You’ll be fine. Aife wouldn’t have given you permission to marry Diamond if she didn’t want you two to marry. I know that you and Aife sometimes have your days, more of them now after that business with Myrtle, but she wouldn’t have granted you permission if she didn’t want you two to marry.” Tom stared at him, clearly still terrified, but nodded._

_And later, as Aiden watched Tom’s eyes sparkle the second they landed on Diamond, he remembered just why he liked this kid so much._

Draco frowned. It was hard to believe that things had changed so drastically. He could only imagine how hard it was for Harry. After all, not only was Voldemort the same person he once saw as a younger brother, but he was also Salazar Slytherin’s last heir. Draco knew that must cut at Harry, because Salazar was… Salazar was... What? He was _what?_

“This is getting fucking annoying.” The fire sparked as if in agreement. He wanted someone to talk to – someone who wasn’t Harry because whenever he was around Harry, everything seemed to be contradictory and confusing. Someone who wasn’t his father, because as much as Lucius was a great father, they weren’t really all that close any more – it just came with growing up – and he couldn’t talk to his Godfather about this for the same reasons.

Vesta, but he missed his mother. He could talk to her about anything and it seemed that she had a patented answer. She always knew what to say and how to say it – but she was dead and there wasn’t anything he could do about that. He sighed, standing to place the dolls Harry had made for his father and godfather back where he found them. He’d talk to his father tomorrow; it was getting late and he was getting tired.

* * *

_Draco stood in an open courtyard, surrounded by grand and elegant buildings. In front of him was a building with two floors and what looked like a smaller structure on the roof, all with grand, open archways. Great pillars rose up in front of the building, seeming to separate the open courtyard from a street without the use of an actual wall._

_Next to the structure was a temple, just as decorated as the building next to it. And, as he stepped closer to look at these magnificent buildings, a familiar symbol caught his eye: the Malfoy crest etched into the side of one of the pillars he was standing in front of. His mind went through a quick whirlwind of deduction. He knew just about every architectural project his family had ever been involved in; it was something he had been taught from a young age. The Malfoy family didn’t work on many architectural projects; typically the family was more political then masonry in nature. But, every now and then, a Malfoy would be born with an architectural flair. They had helped with bits and pieces of Hogwarts, a few of their own Manors, small public buildings here and there, and more than a few of the Roman forums and ancient temples._

_With that in mind, Draco stared back at the building with its huge arches. He took a few steps back, looking at it, trying to see if he could recognize the structure. After a few seconds, it clicked. This was the Basilica Aemilia in its full glory. The muggles saw this, and all of the Roman Forum, as naught but a ruin. But, it still stood, it was still used today by Wizards; it simply appeared older - more weathered down. The paint on the stones had washed mostly away, and the figurines in the Roman Forum had lost their luster and magnificence._

_But, as he took in his surroundings, this forum did not look old and weathered. It looked new; empty and barren, but new. The engravings on the floor and stairs still stood out, none of the Latin seemed warped or garbled as it did now._

“ _Is anything wrong?” The voice came so suddenly that Draco jumped and whirled around, hand going for his wand before he realized that he recognized the voice. His eyes landed on Harry, and the other boy looked at him in bewilderment._

“ _We’re in the Roman Forum.”_

“ _Yes, we are in its’ shadow. We’re dreaming.”_

“ _Dreaming? But… you’re not in Limbo.”_

“ _I don’t have to be. I told you, I was there because I had to be; you were there because you wanted to be.”_

“ _So, what? I want to be here? I see you everyday… why would I want to see you here too?” Harry looked somewhat hurt by the words and Draco quickly replayed them in his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant…’_

_Draco reached out, touching Harry’s face gently – it almost felt like a physical wound in his chest, the thought that he had hurt Harry._

“ _I do want to see you… just not in a dream.” Draco swayed forward, as if to kiss the other boy in front of him, but thought better of it and retreated back._

“ _Why are we in the Roman Forum? Why does it look like this?”_

“ _It looks the way it looks.”_

“ _No, it looks the way it looked once, long ago. I’ve been to this place, here and now, in this lifetime, and it doesn’t look this nice anymore.”_

“ _Age does that to things.”_

_Draco looked at Harry carefully, trying to piece together what Harry was trying to tell him. He looked back to the ground, the engravings that showed perfectly, the look of the new paint. How could Harry possibly know enough about this place to construct an exact replica…?_

“ _The idea is right there, Draco…I know you’re thinking of it, in the back of your mind…”_

“ _You were here. When this was built…” Draco looked around. Sometimes, he would give speeches from that podium, he remembered doing so…He closed his eyes as an almost painful longing for this place overcame him._

“ _And so was I. This is where it started, isn’t it?” He closed his eyes. Snippets of events came to him: children playing in these streets, betting in the Circus Maximus. Colors, and sounds flew by, and a strange buzz dominated his hearing. He could feel the start of a migraine coming and it felt as if something was slipping…_

* * *

Draco woke with a start. He was in his bedroom, down in the dungeons. Habitually, he checked his wards to see if they were sound; they were. His head throbbed, and as he become more aware of his surroundings, he had the sense to try and figure out what time it was.

One o’clock. In the morning.

He groaned as he flopped back onto his bed. Now he was never going to get back to sleep!

A prickling sensation caused him to sit up, wand drawn and mind alert. He was no longer alone, but his wards were undamaged.

“It’s just me. I wanted to see if you had a horrible headache.” Harry came out from the shadows of some corner. Draco stretched his magic across to him, trying to see Harry’s signature to ensure it was really him.

It was and gods did his head hurt.

Harry came and sat next to him, his hands easing Draco back onto his bed, fingers massaging his temples.

“Why can’t I remember like you can? It’s all fragmented…” Draco’s head pounded, it felt as if it would split right down the middle. Harry hushed him, not answering his questions.

“You’re doing really well in the DA. Everyone is really, even little Eleanor. Well, she’s the same age as Ginny and Luna, but she seems so _small_ , you know? And, I think it’s funny that Ginny was so worried that her parents would react to her and Luna badly; did she show you the letter she got from her mum? I wonder what Mrs. Weasley thinks of Ron and Hermione… not that there is a Ron and Hermione just yet, but it’ll happen soon. And – ” Draco yanked Harry down into a kiss to silence his ramblings.

The effect was instantaneous. Harry just seemed to melt and all the nervousness that was gathering up fled. Strangely, or perhaps not, Draco’s migraine seemed to lessen as the moments went by. Harry’s fingers traveled down his face, over his neck and curled in his nightshirt.

Draco ran his hands down Harry’s back; the smaller boy was still too skinny. Harry shifted so that he was straddling Draco’s hips and the movement caused delicious friction.

From this close, Draco realized that Harry smelt like peaches and rain. Harry gently pushed away from him, hovering above the other boy.

“What?” Draco carded his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I can’t be caught here by your roommates, for both our sakes.” Harry laid his head down on Draco’s chest, looking up at him.

Draco was pretty sure that most teenage boys in this position would be slightly insulted by the fact that their lover didn’t seem to want to make out with them… especially when said lover had actually had sex with at least one other person before. However, since Draco was not most teenage boys, he supposed that accounted for the reason he wasn’t that insulted. Besides, he was almost positive that the Order had left out a very vital aspect of Harry’s abuse.

“I know very well that things will go badly if the wrong people find us in bed together. However, you don’t have to insult my intelligence by saying that’s the reason you don’t want to continue this.” Draco kissed Harry’s forehead gently.

“Draco… it’s not that I don’t want to…”

“I know. At least, I think I know. I’ve never pushed you before; I’m certainly not going to push you now.”

When Draco woke up the next morning, Harry was gone and in his place was a purple hyacinth.

* * *

“Alright, everyone’s here, so we’ll start. As per usual, we will start with a lecture of sorts, head right into a question and answer session and then into actual training. No one’s going to be missed for at least a few hours, no? If that answer is yes, you’d best leave now and I will find you later to yell at you.” Fortunately for all involved, no one left the room. Harry smiled.

“We’ll be talking about the Dark Arts and Magicks of Heaven. Obviously, I’m not going to actually teach you how to _perform_ them, but I will teach you how to recognize the effects of both in objects and humans. I’ll also teach you how to fight against some of the more… not so pretty aspects of them. So, as I’ve already told you, the Dark Arts are defined as Magicks that exploit, harm, influence, or disrupt balance between the planes. I don’t have to explain what exploiting, harming or influencing is, but I do need to explain what exactly it means to disrupt balance between the planes. Trying to bring back the dead by using the Dark Arts is considered as disrupting the balance. Trying to bind a god or goddess to this plane, or trying to cause an apocalypse – or even a major natural disaster – is disrupting the balance. Use of the Dark Arts, as I’ve said, taints the blood. It turns you into something less then human and leaves you susceptible to things you would have been able to fight as a human.

“Now, the Magicks of Heaven are defined as Magicks that steal from all to give to one. Basically, it’s when a person uses magic to steal magic from another source. Use of the Magicks of Heaven crystallizes the blood and you turn into a living stone, with your soul trapped inside. Now, overuse of the Dark Arts has happened before, many times before in fact, so that’s why we know exactly what happens when one overuses it. However, the Magicks of Heaven have never been overused. Typically, people steer clear of them because they’re simply too dangerous. But, the only case that was close was that of Merlin; our Merlin, not the muggles’ Merlin. So, questions?” Inevitability, Hermione’s hand was the first one up.

“What do you mean, ‘our Merlin’? There are two?” Everyone in the room gave her a very strange look. Even Harry himself was remiss – he figured Hermione had already known that – but of course that was a stupid thing to assume. After all, she was muggleborn; she didn’t even know about the wizarding world until she turned eleven.

“Ah, this is a really good example of how flawed our current community is…” Draco muttered. He sighed before turning to address Hermione.

“Yes, the two Merlins are actually two different people. The muggle Merlin is the one associated with King Arthur, Lancelot, Guinevere, the round table, and all that stuff. That is actually the Wizard’s Merlin’s grandson. Our Merlin is someone from Ancient Rome, his name actually wasn’t Merlin – everyone just called him that because his mother was a Welsh Barbarian and that’s what she would call him. It was, at first, a way to tease him about his “unclean” blood no doubt, but it stuck and he went down in our history as Merlin. When King Arthur’s Merlin came onto the scene, he was addressed as Merlin only after he died and was written about. When he was alive, he was addressed by his actual name, which was Ambrosius Aurelianus Dumbledore – our Headmaster’s great-great-great-granduncle. Understand?” 

Harry could see the gears still turning in Hermione’s head, but she nodded and thanked Draco for explaining.

“Okay, what about all that ‘use the Dark Arts and you will lose your mind!’ business? Is that just Ministry/parental propaganda or is it actually true?” Dean asked, sounding curious with a touch of sarcasm.

“The Dark Arts make you less then human and thus you become more susceptible to things, like madness. Some people who dabble too deep do wind up mad – a combination of their lost humanity and the things they did to other people. Of course, not everyone ends up mad, but it is a possibility. Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah, thanks, Harry.”

“Anymore questions?”

“Yeah, why are they called Magicks of Heaven when clearly they’re just as dark as the Dark Arts?” Neville sounded confident, it made Harry smile.

“Because they’re not dark. The Dark Arts feel like Dark Magic whereas the Magicks of Heaven feel like Light Magic. You’ll be able to feel the difference yourself once we get to training. Good question.” No one else seemed to have any questions, so Harry decided to move on.

He grabbed his bag from where it lay against a wall and went about setting things up. He conjured four tables, each one getting its own set of four flimsy, see-through, conjured up walls and a door. Onto each table was placed an item pulled from his bag.

“Okay, as you can see, I’ve made four little rooms and placed an object in each of them. Now, two of those objects were used in a Dark Arts ritual, and still have the feel of that magic inside them. If you use an object in a Dark Arts ritual, the taint of that magic will stay in it until it is cleansed by fire. The same is true of human bodies – the magic taints and then corrupts anything around it. That’s why you can’t bury bodies that were killed by the Dark Arts – you’ll corrupt everything in the vicinity. Now, on the flip side, objects that have lingering air of the Magicks of Heaven in them feel barren. There’s nothing left to them. Humans that had the Magicks of Heaven cast upon them feel much the same way – the presence that should be there isn’t and, if you know how to look properly, they look distorted as well.

“Each of you will go into each of the rooms – alone – while the rest of us practice dueling in timed intervals. The order in which each of you will go into the rooms is as follows, please remember it yourself: Ginny first, then Ron, Luna, Eleanor, Hermione, Draco, Fred, Neville, George, Seamus, then Dean. And, for your peace of mind, the objects cannot harm you – but please do not touch them anyway.”

“Where in the world did you get those things? It’s probably illegal to even have them here!” Dean was riled and rightly so. Harry looked off to a shadowed corner, something like sadness and shame creeping into his expression, before it was wiped clean.

“Sometimes, a question is better then the answer. Alright, Ginny go on, the rest of you pair up and try to disarm the other - I want an emphasis on speed – real fights aren’t going to be slow – and use everything you can think of. Go!”

* * *

“Albus, that book of Merlin’s is very interesting, historically and academically, but this book that was recovered from the Malfoy ruins… It’s like reading a horror story, only to realize it’s real. Accounts of massacres, various Dark Arts rituals, and even a few Magicks of Heaven rituals – it’s truly disturbing to read. On the other hand, both books discuss various persons of fame today as if they were just the person next door, which, of course, they were then. Then there are some people I’ve never even heard of, but were forces to be reckoned with. Like the advisor of Merlin, Lady Saliar, who was also a general of the Roman Legion.” Remus lay both of the texts down on the table.

“It gets worse, I’m afraid. The book from the Malfoy ruins was the accounts of a military leader that worked directly under Merlin during the Roman Empire. It says that a lot of the various rituals were done for or in Merlin’s name. At least two massacres were because Merlin needed bodies for some ritual or another. The rituals using Magicks of Heaven were all completed by Merlin as well. Near the end, even the writer can see that something is wrong with Merlin – his movements are stiff and he hardly moves anymore.” Remus sat down, done with his report.

“Times were different then, we can never know for sure exactly what happened. Was there anything else of interest or was it all just damning evidence of my clans old sins?” Albus massaged his temple. Remus could only half comprehend what it must feel like to have what was essentially his family’s dirty laundry blowing in the wind in front of the whole Order of the Phoenix.

“Well, the origins of Vampirism and Lycanthropy are discussed. Not in the general’s book, but in Merlin’s journal. Apparently, his mad genius brother was experimenting with animals, one of his potions exploded and a vampire bat and a wolf were doused in it. The explosion also caused a hole and they escaped. The interesting thing about this is when the wolf bit a human it took almost a week for the effect to happen. He became a bloodthirsty beast, but it was permanent; he never regained human form. And, the one who was bit by the bat didn’t start to show signs of vampirism until week later as well – that’s when the aversion to sunlight kicked in and he stopped needing human food.” Remus explained and he wished he could do more research, could find more primary sources to compare and get more information.

“Well, that clearly stops the medical debate: Lycanthropy is not a curse, it’s a disease – it’s obviously mutated since then.” Lucius Malfoy said in a bland tone.

“I find it interesting that both came from the results of a botched potions experiment. What in the world was being worked on that when upset it changes molecular structure permanently? And so drastically?” Severus Snape sounded half curious and half awed.

“Was there anything else?” Albus asked.

“Just one thing: apparently, some families have something called a Guide. It’s like a guardian and a babysitter, I think? But they seem to also be very powerful; I was just thinking it might be a bad thing to run into, since a lot of Death Eaters are Purebloods. But, I’m not really sure if that’s relevant at all…” Remus trailed off. Lucius Malfoy sighed irritably.

“Albus, I’m sure you are aware of what Lupin is alluding to, being from an older clan yourself.”

“Yes, I am, Lucius. Remus, that isn’t important. The Guides have all been put to sleep, much like the De Grindelwalds.” Remus shuddered at the mention of the De Grindelwalds. He may not have been alive for the war with Grindelwald, but he had read books and talked to people who were.

The De Grindelwalds were the favorites of Grindelwald: soldiers that could eradicate cities in a night. They were powerful and dangerous; they were that generation’s Death Eaters. They served Grindelwald with a zealot’s passion, and they were loyal to a madding degree - there was no betrayal among them, not even the thought of it. Rumor had it that they had given up their will and hearts to Grindelwald and in exchange they were granted limited immortality – they could live for up to a thousand years before they died. Remus wasn’t sure if he believed that particular rumor or not.

“So, Lucius, the books that you ‘borrowed’ from the Ministry storeroom… I do hope you intend to return them.” Albus looked at Lucius Malfoy as a parent would look at a child who was caught drawing on the walls. Malfoy bristled, but kept his tone civil as he responded that he would, eventually, return them.

And the meeting went on from there.

* * *

Ginny walked through the corridors with Luna drifting beside her, their hands clasped. Luna was reading the letter from Ginny’s mother, smiling and blushing just a little. Ginny herself was in shock – her mother didn’t care that she liked girls. She thought there would be more disappointment, more denial, just more drama on her mother’s end. She was happy that her mother accepted her, it was just shocking.

“There are a lot of Crawlshoes around here lately.” Luna commented as she handed Ginny’s letter back. Ginny blinked at her girlfriend, confused. “Crawlshoes are stray emotions; feelings like vanity, arrogance, and lust. Normally, there aren’t a lot of them just floating about in Hogwarts. It’s odd.” Ginny nodded, not sure what to make of the comment.

A suit of armor clattered to the ground a few steps behind them, causing them both to jump.

“Dammit, Peeves! Will you –?!” Ginny cut herself off as she noticed that the cause of the disturbance was not Peeves, but a cat. The fat cat had a mouse in its mouth and was looking at the fallen suit of armor as if to say “this is your fault, you know.”

As the armor picked itself up and Ginny and Luna continued towards the Ravenclaw common room, it occurred to Ginny that she hadn’t seen Peeves at all this term, and it was almost the Christmas holiday break.

‘ _Well, maybe he decided to stop being so annoying. Or maybe he’s just been busy with the new first years or something.’_ Ginny nodded to herself, and didn’t give it another thought.

* * *

Harry wrapped one leg around Draco’s waist as they kissed. Harry could hear Draco’s heart beating rather frantically in the back of his mind, could feel every angle of Draco’s body pressed against his, and Harry loved it.

‘ _Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this right here…’_ He thought to himself, even as his hips jerkedagainst Draco’s and he swallowed his lover’s groans. Harry was drunk off of Draco, not wanting to stop himself. A half delirious giggle slipped past his lips.

The shadows from the little nook they were in were perfect – Harry twisted and pulled at them until they created a curtain of darkness, hiding the pair from prying human eyes. Draco’s mouth forged a trail down Harry’s jaw to his neck as Harry’s fingers wound through Draco’s hair.

The sound of a door banging made them both jump. Draco swore and pulled his wand out, not bothering to remove himself from Harry’s grasp.

“I swear to the heavens, Peeves, I will find a way to hurt you!” Draco growled.

A chuckle, one so familiar that Harry paled, sounded from just beyond the shadows. Harry released the hold he had on the shadows and they faded back to their own corners. Sirius was leaning against the wall, smirking at the now visible pair.

“Sirius!” Harry squeaked out. He wasn’t blushing, and boy did he thank his lucky stars for that, but he was still very embarrassed. Harry realized that his leg was still around Draco’s waist and quickly dropped it to the ground.

“Yes, me. Draco, is it? Lovely to meet you, must do this again sometime – like when you’re not taking advantage of my godchild. Speaking of my godchild – soon to be legal child – I was wondering if I could borrow them? Oh, I can? Lovely.” Sirius had by then walked up to them, so he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and led him away.

* * *

Harry lay staring at nothing as he tried to go to sleep. Something was bothering him. He turned on his side, trying to force himself to sleep. There was nothing wrong – nothing he knew of – but still, something was bothering him.

He closed his eyes.

_He opened his eyes to an abandoned train station. It looked old – all wood and there were cracks in the ceiling where sunlight shone in. It was very small, with only two sets of train tracks on opposing sides of the platform he was on. It was empty, barring the crooked figure seated upon a bench not too far from where Harry was standing._

_Upon closer inspection of the figure, Harry found that it was a male with a drunken smile. The crooked posture came from a shadow that appeared to be eating the man’s back. Harry cleared his throat to speak._

“ _It’s eating you alive.”_

“ _I’m not alive.”_

“ _Still, isn’t that uncomfortable?” Harry tilted his head, taking a few steps towards the man._

“ _No.”_

_The shadow screeched, jerking away suddenly and flew away. The man stood straighter and Harry got a good look at him. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and his face seemed to glow. He looked so familiar to Harry, yet he knew he had never seen the man before._

“ _Which train are you waiting for?” The question tumbled out of Harry’s mouth._

“ _The same one you’re waiting for.”_

“ _I’m not waiting for a train.”_

“ _Exactly.” The man smiled at Harry and the whole area seemed to chill. Harry realized that, even though he could see the man’s face, he had no idea what skin color he was – or even if he had skin to begin with. He wanted to step back, but when he moved his feet, he went forward instead._

“ _What are you doing here?”_

“ _I’m here to help you look for what you’ve lost.”_

“ _Lost? I haven’t lost anything.” The smile faded from the man’s face._

“ _You haven’t even realized that you lost it. Oh, children today are so careless. Here, lucky for you I found it.” He grabbed Harry’s wrist, pulled him forward and pressed something into his hand._

_It was a Prefect’s badge._

Harry jolted awake. His left hand stung, and upon inspection of it he realized why. The Prefect’s badge from his dream seemed to be almost melded into his palm, the edges sunk so deep in his skin that he knew it would hurt when he removed it.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he lay down next to his wife. He had been working with his sons and a few members of the Order on the rewarding of the Burrow, now that the reconstruction was finished. It was a tiring business.

Molly was reading the some book or another, her glasses perched atop her nose. _‘She’ll be done soon, I’ll probably be half asleep by the time she’s finished.’_

“Goodnight, Molly.” He said and leaned to give her cheek a kiss. She nodded, no doubt not fully listening to what he said. He was almost asleep when Molly started to shake him awake.

“Arthur, Arthur, how old is your family line?” He yawned as he sat up to look at her. It was an odd question, one that he really had to think about.

“I don’t know. Due to the war with Grindelwald, I didn't get to know our family's secret so your guess is as good as mine, I'm afraid. I know we're old enough that our Guide was killed in a one of the Tribal Wars but other than that...” He trailed off, unconcerned. Molly frowned, biting her lip. It reminded him of when she was younger, when they were still in Hogwarts; she used to bite her lip like that whenever she studied.

“Well, according to this, the Weasley’s start with Septimus Weasley who married Cedrella Black in 1931.” She said and Arthur blinked at her.

“Yes, I know that was when we changed our name. We recently came across the channel, I remember that much from the stories, but I really don't know anything else about it. Luckily, I've never given much care to things like that.” Arthur said honestly. Molly hummed and then sighed.

“Neither have I. I was just hoping that you might know a little more. It's okay though, it really doesn't matter.” She said and put the book on the side table, along with her glasses.

* * *

The room was utterly destroyed.

“Where is it? Where is it?” Voldemort stood in the thick of the mess, frantically looking for something.

“It’s not here, why isn’t it here?! It should be here!” He picked up a desk, throwing it against the wall so hard it broke apart as if it were glass. He rummaged among the mess of furniture and paperwork that littered the floor.

“It’s not here… Where did you hide it?” He collapsed on the floor, seemingly talking to nothing.

“ _It’s not important, Marvalo. You have other things to do.”_ The voice of his Master, ringing soft and gentle wrapped around Voldemort, as if arms were encircling him.

“It’s important. It’s the most important thing in the world. Where did you hide it?” Voldemort stood, looking about the room in desperation. He saw what looked like a glimmer near the remains of what was once a bed. It now resembled bits of fluff and fabric tossed carelessly into a blender. Voldemort nearly vaulted over to it, scrabbling to see if the glimmer was what he was looking for.

It was a silver locket in the shape of a heart with decorations of birds and three embedded rubies. This was what he was looking for. Reverently, he opened the worn locket with a look of obsessed awe. Inside was a picture of a young woman with ink black hair and a ruby red smile. Her blue eyes sparkled with life and love. He loved her eyes, the deep pools of sapphire that inflamed his senses. He closed it, holding it close.

His Diamond, his lovely, lovely Diamond. Taken from him early on, but far from forgotten.

“ _Marvalo, you will need your family’s Guide if we are to even hope to accomplish half of what needs to be done to get what you want; which means that I need one of my people inside Hogwarts. Stage an attack on the village near it, on a day when some of the students will be there. I can easily use one to send back inside the school.”_

Voldemort nodded, placing the locket into a pocket for safe keeping.

“ _I hunger for blood, for pain, for tears. Let me take control once more, let me feed on someone, Marvalo. I hunger.”_

“Yes, Master. There are some prisoners in this house.”

* * *

Hermione stood in front of the gargoyle leading to the Headmaster’s office. It stared at her just as steadily as she did towards it. She had run out of sweet names and it still didn’t open.

‘ _Perhaps Professor Dumbledore finally realized that it was easy to guess the password if you knew his quirks?’_ She thought to herself.

She wasn’t even sure what she was doing here. It was the night before Christmas holiday break and here she was at midnight standing in front of the Headmaster’s gargoyle. But, Harry was right, and Hermione thought it wise to try and get the Headmaster more aware of the problem, if he wasn’t aware of it already.

The problem was Peeves. No one had seen him this term and furthurmore no one really thought it was odd. Harry had asked around – no one had seen the poltergeist and that was cause to worry, apparently. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it, so he was in the library trying to see if something there would help. And here Hermione was, going to the Headmaster for help.

‘ _Maybe I am a child, but I think it’s good that I can admit when I need help. I think it’s good that I can still trust authority figures, even when I’ve been shown that so many of them aren’t worth trusting. I trust them until they show me that they can’t be trusted. If that’s childish, then so be it.’_

A melodic trill caused her to turn quickly, wand at the ready. Fawkes was sitting on a window sill, looking at her in curiosity. Hermione put her arm down, still holding her wand but no longer on the defensive.

“Good evening, Fawkes.” Hermione said, feeling a bit silly. But everything she had read said that phoenix’s were very intelligent and deserved to be treated with respect, and Hermione found no reason to find fault with that reasoning. The phoenix trilled a song in response.

“I don’t suppose you could get the Headmaster could you? I have something I want to talk to him about. I think it’s important.” The phoenix stared at her for a while longer, and then trilled again. It was a beautiful sound.

Hermione felt more than heard the gargoyle moving behind her and the stairway appeared. She smiled at the phoenix in thanks and held very still when he flew over to perch on her shoulder.

She went up the stairs and the door to the office opened to admit her. Once inside the office, Fawkes flew from her shoulder to his perch. She looked around the office, realizing that it looked somewhat ominous in the moonlight. She could feel the Headmaster’s magical signature, a warm fluttery sensation not unlike a grandfather’s hug. Still, it wasn’t just his magic she could feel, but someone else’s as well. Someone she wasn’t familiar with. Before she could try and get a feel for it, a voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Was there something I could help you with, Miss Granger?” She turned towards the headmaster’s voice. He was seated behind his desk, holding a cup of steaming liquid. He was wearing purple flannel pajamas with little moving shooting stars. On his head was a floppy pointed sleeping cap; she smiled a bit, amused by the Headmaster’s quirky nature.

“Yes, it’s about Peeves, sir.” He waved her to a seat – a huge orange monstrosity that was very squishy and comfortable – and asked if she wanted some hot cocoa.

“Oh, if it’s not too much trouble, hot cocoa would be very nice.” As a tea cup set floated over and set itself to preparing her a cup of hot cocoa, the headmaster started to speak.

“Well, if this is about how as a Prefect you’d very much like Peeves removed, I’m sorry to say that you stayed up for nothing.” Hermione blew on her hot cocoa.

“No, that isn’t what this is about. Rather, I’m a little worried. It’s just come to my attention that no one has seen Peeves around at all this term. To my understanding, such a thing has never occurred before, so…” Hermione trailed off, uncertain as to how to explain why this made her uneasy. She took a sip of her hot cocoa.

“Ah, yes. That is rather odd, isn’t it?” He sounded casual, but Hermione could see that the twinkle had left his eyes, showing that he was actually disturbed by this news. “Well, are you quite sure that no one has seen him? Not to sound offensive, but you seem to only take company with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. Just because you three haven’t seen him...” He trailed off, clearly trying to be polite.

“It’s not just us three. None of the Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, or Gryffindors have seen him at all. Harry, Draco, and Eleanor checked. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout haven’t seen him; and even Professor Lupin and Harry’s godfather haven’t seen him.” The headmaster sighed, and Hermione thought he looked older.

“I’m afraid that I don’t know what that means, Miss Granger. I assure you I will look in to it, but it might be nothing.”

“Of course, Headmaster.” She sipped her hot cocoa, wondering if the reason Harry wanted to keep this to himself wasn’t because he didn’t trust the headmaster, but rather that he didn’t want to overburden him.


	12. Chapter 12

Sirius wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Draco Malfoy or shake his hand. On the one hand, his godchild (God _son_? God _daughter_? He....really isn't sure which one to call Harry most of the time. What did it say about him that he didn't know something like that? He's going to _fuck this up_ , oh by the Norns - _)_ was obviously head over heels in love with the boy. This made him a good kid, as he made Harry happy. However, Sirius couldn’t help but remember seeing the two of them wrapped around each other in a corridor at Hogwarts, and that made Sirius unsure, as was his right as Harry’s soon-to-be father. Lily would have welcomed the boy with open arms; James would have had a heart attack.

‘ _But James and Lily aren’t here anymore. Only Remus and I are.’_ So, what was Sirius to do? Accept the boy because Harry needed someone in his life, or detest the boy because he might hurt Harry later on down the road?

“Black, still up?” Lucius Malfoy came into the kitchen, looking immaculate – which was unusual considering it was four in the morning.

“I just woke up, what are you doing up? Don’t you usually sleep 'till nine?” It was true, the elder Malfoy usually slept until exactly nine on the dot unless he was needed up for an emergency.

“Draco is coming home – well, here – for the holidays.” He spoke as if it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

“So, you got up at four in the morning?” Sirius asked incredulously. Malfoy got out bread, peanut butter, and an apple.

“I haven’t done any Yule shopping; I usually do it the day he comes back, that way I’m already in London when the train comes.” He opened the peanut butter and located a spreading knife.

“So, you got up at four in the morning to go _shopping_?” It sounded ridiculous to Sirius; why would you want to wake up that early to go shopping of all things? Malfoy bit into his sandwich as he came to sit across from Sirius.

“I do hope you’ve eaten already as you’re coming with me, Cousin.” Sirius stared.

* * *

_A child’s lifeless eyes stared, the child’s body mangled and broken. In the distance, a raven screamed._

_A house was burning, screams from the occupants still ringing in the air. The noon sun shone merrily above, mocking the sight underneath it._

Harry awoke with a start as the train lurched.

“All right, Harry?” The twins asked. Harry shook his head and yawned.

“Are we there?”

“Nah, we still have a ways to go.” Harry blinked as he looked around the compartment.

He was sitting next to the window, using Draco’s shoulder as a pillow, who was sitting next to Ron. Across from Ron was Hermione, and next to her, Fred and George. It was a rather tight fit. All six of them were going to spend their holidays at Grimmauld Place. Neville, Seamus, and Dean were all going to Neville’s for the holiday, and Ginny and Luna were going to Russia with Luna’s father – the Lovegood family had a cottage up that way, they learned. And little Eleanor was going home for the holiday.

“So… do you think Sirius is actually going to be on the platform?” Hermione asked.

* * *

There was mist above the Forbidden Forest, far enough away from the castle grounds that Albus didn’t send Hagrid to investigate its cause. Besides, Albus already knew what was causing it. For once the Daily Prophet wasn’t making up falsities: Dementors really were in the forest. Albus wasn’t sure what to make of it – had Tom sent them here or were they trying to extend a hand in friendship? They hadn’t come near the castle or Hogsmeade, after all.

‘ _Well, I’ll have to deal with them if they come too close. Perhaps when term restarts I’ll have a better grasp at what their intentions are. As the wards stand, they can’t get onto the grounds, so that counts for something…’_ He had been furious when the Minister had told him that because of Sirius’ escape from Azkaban that the soul-sucking creatures would be let lose on his students. He had to adjust the wards to allow it, but the second that school year had been over he put the wards back as they were supposed to be.

The Hogwarts wards were some of the most extensive in modern history. Apparition was impossible, portkeys could only be made by the Headmaster, tracking spells couldn’t penetrate the wards, fighting triggered alarms in the Headmaster’s office and their personal quarters, and Dark Creatures could not gain access. The Dark Creatures the wards dealt with were not the creatures that the Ministry defined as “Dark”, but the creatures that truly were Dark. They were the things that caused man to fear the night – creatures that ate and didn’t do much else; creatures that most of history had forgotten, eager to dismiss them as myths. Wild and untamable creatures that ate soul, flesh, and bone alike. Creatures that delighted in pain and suffering, smiled as they ripped their food apart.

Albus shuddered. Dementors would be the least of his worries if the wards were breached and one of _those_ came to lunch.

“Headmaster sir, none of the house-elves has seen poltergeist Peeves.” Dippy, a house-elf that had served Hogwarts for most of its life, said before it popped out.

That was also worrying. Ms. Granger had been right; Peeves was nowhere to be found.

“Albus, this is a problem. Why, when I was a teacher here, Peeves was here!”

“Peeves has never been absent from Hogwarts, Albus! There is something gravely wrong!”

The portraits of the late Headmasters and Headmistress were all talking at once, clearly distressed. Albus sat down, sighing and removing his glasses.

“If he has never left, then how do we know if that’s good or bad?” Gasps of outrage followed.

“Young man, if you are implying that we don’t know what we’re talking about –”

“Even you aren’t so stupid as to –”

“Are you willing to compromise the children's' safety –”

He sent off sparks from his wand to quiet them.

“What I meant was: there is no use in assuming the worse, when we don’t even know all the details. If we –” He was cut off again.

“Peeves is a poltergeist. The first set of students here started his making, and every year since has just added to him, he is tied just to these students, by a very complicated spell that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor designed specifically for Hogwarts. Do you want to imagine what this school would be like if all the students had to keep their anger, jealously, resentment, and stress to themselves? There is a reason why Hogwarts’ suicide rate is almost none existent, why bullying so seldom escalates to violence, and why this school can count its teenage pregnancy cases with two five-fingered hands.”

Albus massaged his temples. That was true, something he never gave much thought to if he were honest with himself. But, what in the world could have happened to Peeves? Did he leave? Was he… eaten?

That thought caused his eyes to snap open – what if Peeves _was_ eaten? That would mean that the wards had been compromised. But, if that were the case, Albus would have known – he would have noticed. He was, after all, tied to the wards, given that he was Headmaster.

‘ _But, you’ve been awfully busy lately… stressed. Perhaps you missed something…’_ A part of his mind whispered, sounding remarkably like a younger Gellert Grindelwald. He firmly pushed all thoughts of Gellert back where they belonged, in the dark recesses of his mind, locked away.

He needed a second opinion.

* * *

“You cannot be serious, Draco.” Lucius sounded stern and not even slightly bemused. Severus was clearly pretending that he had gone deaf, staying out of the current discussion between father and son.

“I am serious, father. I’ve known Harry for almost five years now – ”

“And you’ve only been together for a few months! And before that, you hated each other.” Lucius was going to continue, but Draco started laughing.

“Oh for the love of… Father, are you really so blind that you thought I really hated him all these years? I’ve been _obsessed_ with him since the very first time I laid my eyes on him. You of all people should know that – just look at my behavior towards him! Looking back, it’s _embarrassing_ how I acted around him; constantly wanting his attention on me and only me, throwing tantrums when I didn’t get enough of it. If anything, this change in our relationship is something that was in the making since we first met. It makes sense!” Draco stopped, because if he went on he’d start talking about his memories and he didn’t want to tell his father about those just yet. Not now.

“Draco, you cannot expect your father to give this wild decision of yours his blessing on just a whim of yours. Sure, you like him now, but what about next year? You’ve only been together for a few months.” Severus had apparently decided to stop pretending he was deaf. The accusation made Draco’s blood boil.

‘ _We’ve been together far longer than a few months! I’ve wanted him since the first time I saw him in that damn robe shop, just putting a different name on it. I don’t even have all of my memories, barely any of them at all but there was an ache that bordered on painful. But I can’t very well tell you both that, I just can’t! There’s too much I don’t know…’_

“Good to know you think so little of me, Severus. You act as if I’m asking father to okay me buying an engagement ring for Harry.” Technically, what he was asking for wasn’t that far from an engagement ring, but this particular tradition was so out of date that his father would undoubtedly never guess what the message behind the gift was. Harry, however, would know immediately.

“I’ve been brushing up on the old traditions as of late. That is why I will not allow you to give Harry this particular gift – you may not be giving him an engagement ring, but you might as well be asking him to save a spot on his ring finger for you. You do not know that, of course, but I’m sure Mr. Potter does and I will not have you give that boy the wrong impression – ”

‘ _So much for father not understanding the message…’_

“Actually, I do know that,” He cut his father off, suddenly feeling awkward. This wasn’t how he imagined this conversation going. “That’s why I want to give him this, because I _do_ know what it means and I know he does, too.” He could suddenly understand what Harry must have been feeling when Sirius Black had caught them together at Hogwarts.

His father stared at him as if he had never seen him. Severus was looking back and forth between them, no doubt lost as to what exactly was going on. Lucius must have noticed his lover's confusion, because the next thing he said was addressed not to Draco, but to Severus.

“Draco wants to give Harry a diamond bracelet. Diamond jewelry – rings, hairpieces, necklaces, bracelets, anything you can wear – used to carry the meaning of asking permission to eventually pursue marriage, especially in the wizarding world where our wedding bands are made primarily of sapphires as opposed to diamonds. It’s a pre-engagement declaration meant only for the couple, thus no asking of blessings or permissions needed. Likewise, there are no engagement announcements.” Severus looked at Draco with a strange blend of bemusement and incredulity.

“You cannot be serious.” Severus whispered his voice tinted with disbelief. “You have been dating this boy for just a few short months and you think yourself in love with him? Is that what is prompting this madness? Draco, you are both only 15, you cannot possibly know if you want to spent the rest of your life together, or even just move your relationship further. You don’t understand what you’re doing – ”

“No, I understand perfectly what I’m doing.” Draco cut in softly “Do you remember when Harry was in a coma during the summer? Do you know what that was like for me? Every night I would be pulled into his own personal limbo to talk with him, that’s why I was researching about limbo and bonds – I wanted to know why I was being pulled there. Harry said that I was there because I wanted to be, and at the time that made no sense to me. But, he was right. I did want to be there. And since he has been awake, I’ve made sure that every little thing I remembered from those “dreams” was also remembered by Harry, just to prove that it all wasn’t just wishful thinking or something. It wasn’t, I really was in his limbo. I understand perfectly what I’m doing. And knowing that will you still deny me the right to give Harry this gift?”

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_Sometimes, I think I am the only one out of the two of us with any sense at all, at least in regards to your safety. The wards on your room here at Hogwarts have been taken down; I’m sure some of your furniture has been cursed in some manner or another. Before you step foot in it come January, you are to have your godfather (Is he still your godfather or your other father now? I know your dad and he haven’t gotten married, but does that really matter?) go over every nook and cranny or possibly just get you new furniture. I’m serious, Draco, I’m sure some of the Slytherins have set something horrible up._

_Oh, and Witch Weekly is going on about how you have “found love” with Granger or some such nonsense. Seriously, you’re lucky that most people are completely hopeless at observation, or they would have noticed that you keep shooting gooey, love looks at Potter._

_Yes, I’ve noticed that. I don’t think anyone else has. After all, I spend an inordinate amount of time watching you and your environs for any possible danger; it’s only natural that I’d notice you sending him looks. I can’t fault you for your taste, that’s for sure. I mean, yum!_

_I’m serious about your room, Draco._

_Blaise_

Blaise sighed as he sent his letter off with an owl. He wondered if there was anything more he could do for Draco, they’d always been close. Practically best friends from the moment they meet, back when they were either five or six. The Malfoys and Zabinis had been families that had a good, long history.

As the Malfoy Knight family, the Zabinis were very accustomed to watching out for their Lords. It was a duty that was entrusted to them long ago and now generations later it seemed to be built into them. Blaise protected Draco because Draco was a Malfoy and thus that was his _duty_ , his _right_.

He’d cut down anyone that dared to try and harm Draco, and they’d never even realize what had hit them.

* * *

Luna’s dad was easy going and a bit eccentric. He didn’t seem the type of person who took the Dark Mark, but Ginny had seen it peeking out from beneath his sleeve. At least that explained why Luna was allowed over at Headquarters over the summer – her father was a spy.

The door to the room Ginny was staying opened. Luna skipped in, a smile on her lips and clothed in a bathrobe.

“I’m going to take a bath, do you want to come?” Ginny stared at her for a moment.

“Errr… would your dad be okay with that?” Because Ginny was a hundred percent sure her mother wouldn’t be.

“Of course, what’s wrong with us taking a bath together?” Luna looked somewhat confused, but judging from the small blush in her checks she knew the implications.

“Well, I am somewhat cold…” Ginny said as she got up.

* * *

The paperwork was signed and filed. It was official: Sirius Black was the adopted father of Harry Potter. Harry still kept his last name and all of the Potter assets, but Sirius was his father now, legally. He ran his fingers over the document again.

He had a dad.

He looked up at Sirius, who had a huge smile that lit up his whole face. Remus was sitting next to him, looking the happiest Harry had ever seen him.

“So… who’s who?” Harry asked quietly. The smile slipped a little from Sirius’ face and Remus blinked a few times. Harry bit his lip, hoping he didn’t ruin the moment.

“Technically, I’m not really a part of your family. I’m not allowed – ”Remus started awkwardly and harry quickly cut that idea off before it could fester anymore.

“I don’t care if you’re legally allowed to call yourself my parent or not. You’re with Sirius, which makes you my family.” Harry really didn’t want to hear about how the Ministry was full of bigots.

“Well, obviously, Remus is the mother.” Sirius said casually flinging an arm around said man. Remus laughed.

“What’s this ‘obviously’? You’re the only one with legal rights; therefore you should be the mother!”

“But, you’re the one that’s fussy like a mother!”

“Your mother was fussy? Well, that’s news to me.” Remus got out as he was laughing. Harry laughed.

“Well, Sirius, your hair is longer then Remus’, so I guess that makes you the mother.” Harry teased.

“Hah! Even he’s on my side!” They all laughed. Harry threw himself into Sirius’ arms, holding on tightly.

“You love me?” Harry murmured into Sirius’ robes.

“Yes, I love you.” Sirius pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple. Harry could feel himself trembling, trying to hold his tears inside. How long had it been since he had parents? The time before last? Her father in her last life had been a sack of shit that she had been glad to see leave and her mother was dead shortly after giving birth to Diamond.

And before that, she had Elena who may not have given birth to her but she was her mother. Two full lifetimes between then and now – did she remember how to be a daughter?

Would he know how to be a son again?

“Even though I gave birth to a dead baby?” He asked Sirius' shirt, not really wanting to ask it but feeling the need. The last time he was anyone's son, his father had been...proud and cold, hurt and distant, but he had loved his son. He was out of practice of being someone's child and not someone's parent – and thinking about his would-be daughter was still something he struggled with.

“Yes, though I think maybe you should talk to someone about that.” Sirius said. His stillbirth might not have bothered him so much if he didn’t know from past lives just what he was missing. If he didn't know how very hard raising children was and how very unprepared he would have been to raise one back then.

And didn't that just sum up this whole mess? He was used to being a _mother_ not a child. Even the times he had caring, loving parents he usually had siblings and cousins to dot on, to distract from how very unusual he was on his own – or on her own, whichever she was that time around. 

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Harry tightened his arms around Sirius.

“Alright, you don’t have to talk about it now, then.” And they were very quiet for a while afterward.

* * *

Hermione thought that this year’s Christmas was going rather well. The opening of presents had ended already, after Draco woke everybody up at some ungodly hour.

‘ _Who knew Draco was so excitable?_ ’ Hermione thought with a smile.

Ron had given her a new book series, _Wizarding Fiction_ , a series about the different ways muggles portray magic. He bought her the whole set, which included four books. The gift was actually from Ginny and Ron both, as they both helped to pay for it, but it was Ron’s idea. The twins got her a bag of quills that not only turned her hand different colors when she used them, but were also edible. Neville had sent a picture book of different plants that was interesting to look at and Eleanor sent a very nice card, sparkles and fireworks shooting off of it. Harry had gotten her earrings and a book on the use of jewelry in ancient rituals. Luna and Draco had conspired together to get her a scrapbook. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gotten her what she had taken to calling “the Weasley Christmas kit” – a Weasley sweater, chocolate of some kind, and a few extra quills.

The highlight of the morning was also the most understated. While most everyone was distracted by the twins giving a demonstration of their newest invention – household firecrackers that chuckled with each spark of fire – Draco had given Harry a gift. A small gift (Hermione didn’t see what it was-) but when Harry opened it he looked very happy, happy enough to kiss Draco with no regard to the other people in the room. She really wondered what it was that Draco gave him.

“Hey, Hermione, have you seen Harry or Draco at all since present opening?” Ron stuck his head into the bedroom – since Ginny was staying with Luna, Hermione was all alone in the room.

“No, did you need them for something or are you just wondering where they got to?” Ron came to sit next to her on the floor. Scattered around her were different photos she had gathered through the last five years, there were quite a few.

“I was just wondering. Come to think of it, they’re probably in Draco’s room.” He picked up a photo of Hermione’s parents eating breakfast one morning.

“Did you get anything from your parents? I didn’t see you open anything from them.” Ron looked a bit worried, no doubt realizing that if she didn’t get anything from them she might not want to talk about that.

“Oh, my parents are Jewish, I never get anything from them anymore. Once I started Hogwarts, they decided to switch back to being a Jewish household instead of a mixed one since I wouldn't be attending muggle schools and expected to celebrate Christian holidays. They were going to originally wait until I was little older, but my letter really just gave them a good opening.” She picked up the _Daily Prophet_ clipping from when the Weasleys won all that money and went to Egypt to put in her scrapbook, under a caption that read “Ron’s Family”.

“Why does it matter that they’re Jewish?” Ron asked sounding genuinely confused.

“Oh, they're mostly not traditional so they only really do Jewish things around the holidays, if that makes sense? Like, Antoni at Hogwarts is Jewish as well and for a lot of the holidays that occur during the year, ze helps me celebrate them. I would feel really awkward going to the full gathering of Jewish students so they usually help me out and their Rabbi sends my greetings to my parents during those times, which is nice of them. My parents used to do presents but since I'm older now, they don't. It's not a big deal.”

“Oh.” Ron blinked, digesting the information. Hermione picked up a family portrait her parents had taken over the summer, just a few days after the end of fourth year. What she told Ron wasn’t the complete truth. Her parents had bought and wrapped gifts to give her for as long as she could remember and were very proud to be a mixed Christian-Jewish family – but when she got her Hogwarts letter that all changed. Hermione liked to tell herself that it wasn’t her Hogwarts letter that caused it; no, it was her age. Her parents were always going to stop celebrating Christmas when she turned eleven, because by then she might not have been teased for not celebrating it. It had nothing to do with her getting her letter.

A few tears dropped onto the picture she was holding.

‘ _Oh, really, Hermione! You’re being silly!’_

“What’s wrong, why are you crying?” Ron asked with a note of urgency in his voice. He pulled her down so she was resting against his chest.

“No-nothing’s w-wrong.” She sobbed out. She told herself that she was being silly, that there was nothing to be upset about, but the tears didn’t stop.

‘ _Stop crying! Honestly, crying over presents, how old are you?!’_ She berated herself silently. Ron ran his fingers through her hair, no doubt wondering what was wrong with her. And she was glad he didn’t ask, because she wasn’t sure what she would have said.

* * *

There was nothing left.

The house was in shambles, the street ripped apart and fire seemed to be everywhere. The air smelt of burnt flesh, charred wood, and singed hair. The muggles had gotten there first; they were claiming that a gas pipe had exploded. It wasn’t completely untrue – a gas pipe did indeed explode, but the Dark Mark above the ruined street spoke another story.

The Ministry – but more specifically, the Unspeakables – had already modified the memories of the muggles so they hadn't remembered seeing the Dark Mark, and all that was left was for the Order to get rid of the damn thing. Molly Weasley was already working alongside a few other Aurors to unravel it, with the rest of the Order trying their best to clean everything up. It was a lucky thing that the fire had already burnt all the bodies and surrounding structures to ash; it meant there was less for the Order to do.

Albus stared down at a pile of ash, an identification spell lingered around it, and a little card placed near it said: ‘Marietta Edgecombe, Hogwarts Student – Ravenclaw, 16 years of age’. A few feet away there was another pile, the little card reading ‘Carlotta Edgecombe, 8 years of age’. Two children dead.

This was the hardest part of fighting a war, seeing children sacrificed to such hate and violence.

“Albus, there isn’t much else left to do. The whole family was wiped out, so there isn’t anyone we need to inform of this… all that’s left is for the Ministry to write death certificates and record the event itself.” Severus spoke quietly and for someone who didn't know him, he might have sounded unshaken.

“Did you see anything from Miss Edgecombe to suggest that she was frightened for her life, Severus?”

“No. I only saw her in class and at meal times though, so it’s hard to say if she or her family had been threatened…” He trailed off. Albus nodded – he knew that. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to ask such a thing.

The sun was high in sky, shining down on them, and that seemed so out of place. With two innocent children dead, the sun should be hidden behind rain or clouds, not merrily shedding light down on the place. But, alas, this wasn’t a novel or fairy tale. This was real life, and in real life horrible things happened at any time of day and in any weather.

“Albus, the Dark Mark has been removed. There really isn’t anything more we can do.” Molly Weasley said, leaning on her husband. Albus nodded.

‘ _There isn’t anything more we can do… Yes, I’m rather starting to feel that way about a lot of things.’_

* * *

“And this is the Neva River, where Grigori Rasputin was dumped after being poisoned, shot, beaten, and castrated. The muggles believe that he drowned, and their memories were modified to support that theory as well, but he was admitted to St. Pavel after some passing Healers stumbled upon him. Oh, St. Pavel is basically Russia’s St. Mungo’s. No one really knows what happened after he was released, perhaps a krokelbar got him?” Luna prattled on as she led Ginny by the hand over a bridge. Luna’s father had let them go sight-seeing today, so here they were, wandering the countryside. Luckily, passing through customs also had the added bonus of negating the “no magic during holidays” law in Britain.

In Russia, the law was “don’t do magic in obvious places.” Here it was more about keeping magic to yourself then keeping it away from the muggles. Of course, that probably had a lot more to do with the fact that the muggle/wizard ratio in Russia was almost 50/50 then anything, but it was nice. It was also the reason the two girls were wandering by themselves, with only a portkey each for safety.

The two girls came to what was obviously a warehouse once upon a time, most likely used for storage back in the day. An old gate archway marked its entrance and with a sign beside it. To Ginny, it looked like nothing more then strange symbols. Luna pulled her to it, looking down at the sign as if it held the secrets to the universe. Then, she turned to Ginny, smiled and pulled her through the archway.

And then, they were somewhere else.

Shops and cafes littered the yellow cobblestone road they were on. All the signs were in Russian, but it was obvious that it was a magic alley they had stepped into. People were milling about, merchants were shouting in Russian – no doubt trying to sell something or attract attention to their shops. Some older women were sitting around a cafe table chatting away in Russian. A group of teenagers were crowded around a shop window, no doubt discussing whatever it was they were looking at. Luna pulled her down the street at a sedate pace, the two girls stopping to look in windows or look at things on display outside.

An hour later, they were still looking around. The alley had twisted several times and seemed to be heading downhill. The end of the alley didn’t seem to be in near sight.

“Oh, Radies!” An elderly voice croaked out. The mostly correct English made Ginny turn sharply.

It was an old woman. She looked like she had often wore a strict frown in her youth, so much that the expression had left lines behind. Her gray hair hung about her, strands of it falling out of a bun. She was wearing very out-of-date robes that looked as if they had seen better days. In front of her was a table with various knick knacks arranged on top of it.

“Come! See.” She pointed at her table.

‘ _English is obviously not a language she actually studied…’_ Ginny thought. She was amused by the woman’s attempts.

Her table was loaded with antiques: mirrors, sashes, skirts, corsets, hairpieces, gloves, ribbons, jewelry, paintings, old children's' toys, silverware, and even some old books. It reminded her of her father’s shed – tons of junk that meant nothing to her, but obviously were important to her father. The jewelry was the only things that didn’t look like they belonged in her great-grandmother’s time period.

“Pretty, yes?” The old woman had obviously caught onto Ginny’s interest in the sparkling jewelry. Ginny smiled and nodded, wishing she could afford one of the rings, or perhaps a necklace.

‘ _Yeah, good luck with that. These are obviously old and most likely expensive.’_ Ginny was disappointed, but there was no harm in looking. Luna picked up a ruby embedded hairpiece – it looked like a red Chinese dragon. It seemed like something her brother Charlie would like during the times when his hair was long enough to tie back. Its wings were the clips, while its body was the decoration. The body was embedded with either imitation rubies or the real things, she couldn’t tell. It looked beautiful and she wondered if it would look good in Luna’s hair.

“This, see.” Ginny’s attention was brought back to the woman who was holding a ring out for Ginny to look at. It was gold and slender with a black gem of some sort held in the center. It was beautiful, but there was no way in blazing blue hell that Ginny would have been able to afford it.

“Pretty, yes?”

“Yes, pretty. But, I don’t think I can afford it.” Ginny very much doubted that this woman could even understand what she was saying.

“Was granddaughters’, makes me sad. Any amount.” Ginny blinked in shock.

‘ _What? Any amount?!’_ Her shock changed into suspicion. _‘It must be cursed. Shit, play it cool, play it cool.’_

“No, I couldn’t.” Luna shot her a sharp look. Apparently she wasn’t that great at “playing it cool”.

‘ _Honestly, you’re a Blood Traitor and a friend of Harry Potter’s! What, did you think the Dark Lord would let country borders stop him from killing or kidnapping people?! The mere fact that this woman can speak English is in itself suspicious – why would she be speaking it here, in the heart of her own country?! Stupid, stupid!’_

“Luna, we’re expected home, aren’t we?” Luna made a noncommittal sound while slipping her hand into Ginny’s easily, as if she wasn’t giving Ginny an easier way to get them both to safety. An instant later, they were whisked away to safety.

Later on, when Ginny was getting ready for bed, she noticed a gold and slender ring with a black gem of some sort held in the center sitting on the table by her bedside.

“Now, where in the world did that come from?” She asked herself. She picked it up, trying to remember why it looked familiar. When she could think of nothing, she mentally dismissed it and went to bed.

* * *

Fred yawned. He was all for learning new and cool bits of magic, but these lectures were going to kill him. Sure, the content was very interesting and if he went without them he could inadvertently end up killing himself or someone else, but it didn’t make listening to them any better.

“Okay, this first half of the lesson is going to be dinner, because I’m starving and it’s eleven in the evening. So, while we eat pizza, you’re going to listen to me talk about magical bonds. There are two types of magical bonds, and they’re named very originally – natural and artificial.”

‘ _At least he's attempting to lesson the boredom by jokes, even if they’re cheesy.’_

“The bonds formed during today’s marriage ceremonies are artificial bonds, the bonds between adopted children and parents are artificial bonds. The bonds between parents and children, and magical creatures and their mates are natural. The bonds between friends and lovers can be both; any idea why that is?”

“Destiny and all that rot.” Seamus said around a piece of pizza.

“Yes, basically.” Harry grabbed a slice of pizza. “Some of us were _meant_ to find each other. These bonds are natural. That isn’t to say that just because two people are bonded naturally that they’ll get together. Maybe they were born during different time periods, maybe they were born on two different contents, or maybe their blood relations were too close. Maybe they feel in love with someone else or the person they're bonded to fits them better as a friend. All this means is that the bonds between them would be natural as opposed to artificial. Natural bonds aren’t just limited to bonds of love either – bonds of friendship, duty, and hate can also be natural bonds.

“Natural bonds aren’t always good things; there are some bonds that can lead to some pretty tragic ends. One that comes to mind is the _Somni de Malson_. That is a bond of love that brings to the surface passionate, all consuming, mind numbing, and obsessive love. There are lots of figures in literature and history that had this bond: Romeo and Juliet; Lady Guinevere, Lancelot, and King Arthur; to name some. We all know how those romances turned out. The Dumbledore family recently just had two people born with this bond – which is very rare. Ariana and Albus – Ariana has been dead for quite some time but her older brother Albus is obviously still alive.”

“Oh, eww! Incest!” Ron looked rather disgusted. Harry blinked before laughing.

“Oh, no, I didn’t specify that well enough, sorry. They weren’t connected to each other. Ariana was connected to someone who died shortly after she was born, or so the records say. Albus has admitted to being connected via the bond but the other end of that tether has never come forward, though there has been some speculation on various figures it could be.” Harry said and then took a moment to chew.

“Now, with dinner over we’re going to move onto dueling practice.”

‘ _Great, we move form boring lecture to muscle killing training. I’m seeing what he meant by us wanting him dead some weeks.’_

* * *

The cathedral was burning, along with the immediate buildings around it. The smell of sulfur and burned flesh filled the air. Adding to the horrendous smell was decay from the few Inferi that still remained.

The fire had started from a stray curse that was intended for the damned things, but the aim was off and whoosh! The cathedral burned, the ancient wards around it feeding the inferno. Then the surrounding buildings had started to catch and now it looked like the whole of Bordeaux was on fire. It wasn’t of course, the French Ministry had created a water bubble around the huge inferno to contain the damage, the muggles inside were already dead or close to it. The muggles outside the burning section were under the impression that their government was handling the crisis.

Death Eaters, Order members, and French Aurors were furiously fighting while trying to put the fire out. It wasn’t an easy task.

Arthur leaped to the side as a curse flew past him. Between the fighting and the heat from the fire he was sweating buckets; the flame-freezing charm could only do so much and had to be renewed. It was exhausting, but adrenaline did wonders for magical abilities, just as it did wonders for physical strength.

There was no place to hide here; it was duel or die. There was no stealth to be found, not when the majority of the surroundings were on fire. It was as much a disadvantage as it was an advantage; there was no hiding, for him or his opponents. Arthur cast a leg locking charm on the Death Eater he was dueling with and they fell sideways into a burning bush. Their screams made him shudder, but he had no time to feel remorse as another opponent came at him.

This one was obviously a female, a young girl just out of schooling if he wasn’t mistaken. As he volleyed spells back and fourth he couldn’t help but feel as if he recognized her voice. He wasn't quick enough to dodge the last spell and screamed in pain as the skin from his arm peeled off. He shot a medical spell back, essentially an adrenaline charm. It was supposed to be used to keep patients alive when their heart was giving out, but if used on a perfectly healthy person it could cause the muscle to either explode or cause a heart attack.

The Death Eater gave a gasped breath, lurched forward just enough to cause her mask to fall off her face, and then fell over, quite dead. His shock at the face overcame the pain he was in – he knew this child, had her in his home frequently over the years: Penelope Clearwater, Percy’s girlfriend.

As if in a fog, he placed a numbing spell on his arm. It might get infected, but he was in the middle of a battle; he couldn’t afford to take the time to properly heal it.

“PENNY!” And all thought processes halted. He knew that voice, knew it very well.

‘ _No. No, this isn’t happening.’_ A Death Eater ran for him, cutting people down left and right in his hast to get to his fallen comrade. The mask was flung away as the Death Eater fell to his knees to gather the body in his arms. And Arthur did nothing, just stood there staring as if they were alone. As if the city around them wasn’t burning; as if they weren’t in the middle of a battle; as if the rest of the world halted to give them a moment alone.

‘ _This isn’t happening.’_ The distraught Death Eater raised tear streaked and rage filled eyes to him.

“I’ll kill you.” The young man rose, wand outstretched a manic, crazy glint in his eyes. “You’ll pay for hurting her, and when she wakes up we’ll have so much fun with you.”

‘ _This isn’t happening.’_

The casting of the killing curse spurred Arthur’s body, lunging to the side on autopilot. His body moved, his lips cast shields and hexes, but his mind was elsewhere.

“ _Dad, Dad! Look what I did!” His son held up a picture of the Burrow and in front of it was himself, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Molly. Molly looked so much wider then any of them because she was currently pregnant and Percy felt it prudent to draw that fact in._

‘This isn’t happening.’

“ _Percy, you have to be really patient with Fred and George, they’re your little brothers.” He said sternly. His son pouted._

‘This isn’t happening.’

“ _Dad! Mom! Look, an owl, an owl just for ME!” He looked at his son in amusement._

“ _Well, go on, open it!” Molly urged. Percy’s smile lit up his whole face. He broke the Hogwarts seal and started to read his acceptance letter out loud, pride and excitement filling his voice._

He dodged the Cruciatus Curse.

_He was so proud of his son – a Prefect! What an honor. He knew Perce must be ecstatic. Fred and George were giving him a hard time, as usual, but that wasn’t anything too new. He mentally calculated this month’s wages…he should have enough to squeeze in a congratulatory gift for him, maybe the new shoes Percy had been taken with last month._

He summoned a mirror and threw it in front of him. He watched in stunned horror as instead of it shattering into a million pieces, the spell rebounded off of it and hit the Death Eater square in the chest.

‘This isn’t happening.’

“ _Percy, you’ve let your own ambitions blind you to reason! This isn’t about your job, or even mine, it’s about the families safety! Fudge is just using you and if Death Eaters - ”_

“ _Oh, yes, Death Eaters! The Dark Lord is GONE, father! Potter’s full of crap, he’s just an attention-seeking brat! Can’t you see that he’s lying to you?!”_

The Death Eater was lifted off his feet by the force of the impact.

“ _Percy, if you cannot see how much danger you could be putting your family into, I cannot allow you back here. Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, and Harry are still all in school; their safety is the priority, as they are still children.”_

“ _Oh, of course, Fred and George,” Percy sneered. “You’re just jealous that I have a job that can actually give me a steady income! I’M not going to become just some idiot messing around with useless muggle objects. I’LL actually have a purpose in life!”_

“ _If that’s what you think, then fine. But I have to ask you to leave, Percy. I will not let your actions endanger the rest of the family.” It killed him to say these words. But, the rest of the family could not be put in danger just because Percy was too young to understand that this wasn’t a game or an exercise. He’d come around, eventually._

Percy fell to the ground dead.

‘ _This isn’t happening.’_


	13. Chapter 13

“Oh, yeah, because let me tell you how much sense that makes!” Eleanor retorted to Seamus. The older boy rolled his eyes, and waved his arms about as he defended his idea. Dean walked on his other side, a smile playing on his lips.

Ginny, Luna, and Neville were a few shops behind Eleanor, Seamus, and Dean, chatting happily back and forth. Luna was staring dreamily about them, holding Ginny’s hand while Ginny and Neville were enthusiastically discussing something out of the magazine in Neville’s hand. The six were having a grand time, all happy to be back in each other’s company after the break.

They were heading back to Hogwarts when the front of a store exploded outwards. Seconds later a body was thrown out onto the street, blood dribbling out of the mouth. A man in black robes calmly walked out of what remained of the door frame, pulling on a white mask almost absentmindedly. He looked up then, as if someone had called his name, and casually flung a curse at the group of people just standing there frozen in shock and fear.

It was chaos immediately – it seemed as if Death Eaters poured into Hogsmeade out of thin air and they all immediately started firing off curses. A few brave shoppers fought back, but the vast majority fled for their lives. Ginny and Luna dodged and ran through the crowd with ease due to their size and speed.

“We have to get the third and fourth years out of danger!” Luna said to Ginny, hoping the other girl heard her over the noise. Ginny nodded, grabbing the hands of two Ravenclaw third years that were huddled close by.

“I’m taking them to Zonko’s! Cover me!” Ginny said fiercely, dashing forward while shoving the students in front of her. Luna ran after her, wand out. Just as Ginny wrenched the door to Zonko’s open, a spell flew toward them. Luna shoved one of the third years closer to Ginny and got hit in the shoulder for her trouble. She whirled around, wand out, and fired a bone breaking spell at the nearest Death Eater. Their legs folded up underneath them, the knees bending the wrong way.

Luna could sense Seamus and Dean’s mental signals coming closer, so she lingered by the door hoping to see them. In seconds, the two boys came into sight with five Gryffindor students and three younger children – possibly those ones lived in Hogsmeade.

“Dean! Over here!” Luna said loud enough to get his attention, hoping that it wouldn’t attract anyone else’s. Luna and Dean herded the children into the store with minimal fuss while Seamus tried to make sure they hadn’t caught been caught in a Death Eater’s sight. Luckily, the Death Eaters were preoccupied with some brave adults and the destruction of the town.

“Does your shoulder hurt, young lady?” The Zonko’s shop keeper asked Luna as she and Dean came inside. Luna titled her head as she answered.

“Not as much as I thought a broken bone would hurt.” She pointed her wand at her shoulder and tapped it. Pain flared as it snapped back in place. She swayed briefly as her vision grayed. Dean urged her to sit.

“Stay here. Dean, come with me. Luna, try to contact Harry.” Ginny commanded before leaving the shop. Luna tried to conjure offense to being ordered around, but couldn’t mange it. Her shoulder hurt more than it did a few minutes ago. She vaguely wondered if perhaps she didn’t cast her spell correctly.

She took a few deep breathes, trying to think through the pain. She didn’t have her school bag with her, meaning she didn’t have her parchment to get a message out. She looked around the shop, noticing the cowering children and adults throughout.

‘ _A Crumple-Horned Snorkack would never just huddle in a corner with their babies. They’d defend them to the death, leaving them in a safe place. But humans don’t do that. Odd.’_ Luna thought as she forced herself to her feet.

‘ _So, humans cower with children when they know they can do nothing. You can do something, you can get Harry. Think, Luna. How can you get Harry?’_ She had no way of getting word to Harry, but maybe she could attract attention from Hogwarts.

‘ _C’mon Luna, you’re in a joke shop; there’s got to be something useful here.’_

* * *

Ginny dodged a killing curse as she heard Neville enchant a plant to do his will. A bush nearby roared to life, grabbing the Death Eater that just tried to kill her and flung them into a nearby building. They didn’t get up.

Ginny lunged behind the bush as Neville directed it to shield a father and his son. The spell that was heading toward them hit the bush and leaves and wood splintered as the father shot a thankful look at Neville.

“No offense, but that bush isn’t exactly inconspicuous!” Ginny said to Neville as the bush fell to the ground.

“I noticed!” He retorted back as he dragged her away, closer to Honeydukes. While they were running they fired off shields to keep from getting hit. Even so, eventually they had to stop running to turn and fight.

“Why, if it isn’t little Neville Longbottom!” A shrill voice sounded. A giggle followed that statement as a Death Eater danced into their sights. She didn’t wear a mask and had long black hair. She held a vague resemblance to Sirius, but her eyes held a madness that Ginny had never seen in Sirius’ eyes.

“You did grow up well, didn’t you? My, my, you look strikingly like little, cute Alice!” the woman laughed again, loud, as if what she said was somehow hilarious. “I wonder if you and she sound alike?” And that was all the warning they got before the woman shot the Cruciatus Curse at Neville.

He fell, screaming and writhing on the ground as the woman laughed. Ginny ran forward and bodily tackled the woman to the ground, something she clearly wasn’t expecting, but reacted to quickly. The woman’s fist collided with Ginny’s face as she lost grip of her wand. Ginny drove her own fist down into the woman’s pretty face, hearing a crack as her fist connected with the woman’s nose. Ginny lunged off the woman, diving for the woman’s wand. She snatched it up just as she heard Neville’s voice from behind her.

“ _Ex Somes!”_ The woman managed to dodge the entrail-expelling curse before apperating away. Neville looked demonic, his face set in an unnatural expression of sheer hate.

“I don’t think my brilliant plan will work a second time.” Ginny said, hoping that her voice would cause Neville’s expression to change. All it did was cause him to turn to her, clearly furious with her.

“What the hell were you thinking? Rushing her like that! You could have been killed!” He shouted at her.

“I wasn’t, ok?! I just reacted! You were screaming and I had to do something!” She was going to continue when she was hit from behind by something that sent her flying over Neville’s head and into Honeyduke’s front window.

Her last thought before she lost consciousness was _‘Harry’s going to kick my ass for arguing in the middle of a battle.’_

The gold ring on her finger pulsed once, and then she was gone.

* * *

Neville, furious that he had let himself get so distracted, flung the entrail-expelling curse at the Death Eater that cursed Ginny. It hit and Neville watched in a strange sort of detached way as the person seemed to explode outward; bits of organs and blood going everywhere in a burst.

‘ _That should have been Bellatrix Lestrange.’_ Neville thought as he just stood there as the fighting went on around him. Hate and rage was filling him up, clouding his thoughts. He wanted to kill, he wanted her dead. No, he wanted her, the woman who took his parents from him in the worst way imaginable, to _writhe_. She would pay, she would scream, and he would laugh.

She would writhe and scream and hurt and hurt and hurt and he would be glad; be glad, be joyously untouchable. He would curse her, curse her and hate her and rip her apart and she would _scream_ …

A body slammed into him, forcing him to the ground. Neville was brought out of his hate-filled haze as his arm raised, a curse on his lips.

“Nev, it’s me, it’s Dean!” And Neville paused, taking in the face of one of his best friends. As Dean tugged Neville to his feet, he felt sick to his stomach, like he was about to vomit. He had killed someone, and thought about torturing someone, thought about enjoying it.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Neville heard his voice as if he was underwater, filtered and distorted.

“Later, Neville, be sick later! We still have to defend Hogsmeade!” Dean’s voice, loud and urgent, rang like a bell in Neville’s head. Neville nodded, sharply, pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on this right now, he could worry about the other things later. Right now, he had a job to do.

“Ginny got hit; I think she crashed through Honeyduke’s front window. Where are Luna, Eleanor, and Seamus?”

“I don’t know where Eleanor is, we got separated. Luna’s holed up in Zonko’s, trying to get word back to the castle and Seamus is fighting over by Dervish and Banges. I can’t concentrate to try and find Eleanor’s mind in all the ruckus.” Their brief moment of peace was quickly ruined as some Death Eaters noticed them and fired off curses.

Dean flung a shield up, while Neville threw an enchantment towards the trees, hoping that he could manage to enchant them. He hadn’t been able to enchant anything bigger than a bush, but maybe with the added adrenaline…

No, it hadn’t work. The spell hit the bark and the tree did nothing. Dean swore and cast the shield charm again. It was holding up, but just barely. Dean’s magic was better for attacking than defending.

“Hold it for just a little longer; I’m going to try something.” Neville whispered to Dean, stepping a few paces back to give himself room.

Neville took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Harry had taught him the theory behind this; he knew how to do it, and he just needed to power to achieve it. He flung out a string of fire, reaching with his magic to grab it and hold it in place. With his eyes closed, he could feel the heat from the flames and smell the sulfur. He concentrated, folding his magic around the flames. He needed a weapon he could control, something flexible, able to twist around Dean’s shield and strike the Death Eaters. He needed a weapon.

“Neville, I can’t hold this forever!”

The flames died. Neville cursed before flinging out another string, he _knew_ how to do this, it was just a matter of doing it. He reached with his magic again, willing the flames to bend to him and hold.

They vanished, _again_.

* * *

Eleanor struggled against Warren as he dragged her away from High Street, from the fighting and burning.

“You’ll be perfect for my Lord’s wishes, dear Eleanor, especially since Potter seems to have a soft spot for you. You should be grateful and humbled, considering this whole affair was designed specifically for you.”

Eleanor didn’t understand what Warren meant, but she wasn’t in any hurry to find out. She kicked her foot back, hard, and dashed away when Warren loosened his grip on her. She had half a mind to turn back and fight him, but her instincts were telling her to run so she listened. They had never failed her before.

Warren cursed behind her, but she concentrated on getting back to High Street. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were the farthest from her, and Luna was with a bunch of other people – perhaps holed up in a store? Eleanor couldn’t sense Ginny, which worried her for an unfathomable reason.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Eleanor cursed as the spell flew centimeters over her shoulder.

‘ _Thank Merlin Warren can’t aim!’_

“ _Protego_!” Eleanor pointed the wand at herself as she ran, sighing in relief when a bubble-like shield appeared around her.

She ran faster, willing all her energy to her legs to get her back to High Street – it would be easy to lose Warren in the crowd of fighting and flames. Once his attention was divided on more than just her she could disillusion herself and get to Luna or the boys.

She had just gotten to High Street when Zonko’s exploded. On the one hand, _a building just exploded,_ but on the other it was a wonderful distraction. Everyone’s gaze was directed at said distraction, so she cast the disillusion spell over herself and ran towards Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

They were all together, fighting against six Death Eaters. She aimed her wand at the back of one and shot off a blasting curse. The Death Eater’s spine exploded backwards and they fell to the ground. Eleanor hoped, for their sake, that they were dead. She firmly refused to think on the fact that she had just murdered someone and threw herself into the fight, firing spells off. Since she was disillusioned, it was hard for the remaining five Death Eaters to fight back.

“Eleanor!” Warren’s voice sounded from behind her, causing her to sharply turn. A spell slammed into her side and pain seared as her arm was shattered. Her wand flew out of her grip as she staggered sideways, crying out in pain. She threw herself towards Seamus as her disillusion spell faded, wondering if Warren had hit her out of sheer luck or if he had somehow figured out where she was. She wasn’t sure which one would’ve been better.

Seamus fired off something at Warren, she couldn’t hear what it was over the sudden ringing in her head as the pain and adrenaline warred for control over her senses. The world tilted abruptly and she suddenly found herself on the ground, Dean and Seamus hovering over her protectively.

She felt like she was in a kaleidoscope, colors blurred together and sound tumbled and changed in her head. Nothing stayed in front of her and nothing made sense. Dean was saying something to her, or at least she thought it was Dean – it was hard to tell from his Picasso like appearance.

“Pretty lights…” She reached for the light shining from his eyes as she spoke, but her hand closed on nothing as the Picasso-Dean crumpled to the ground. Green shards of light ripped out of him and she heard what might have been Seamus’ voice rumble something.

The Gryffindor emblem came into sight before the green shards of light ripped it away, and someone was screaming as arms picked her up and held her close. She briefly thought she saw Draco, but he looked distorted and too colorful.

* * *

Lucius wrapped his arms around Severus’ shoulders, almost purring in pleasure. He hadn’t been able to see Severus for months and had even resorted to sleeping with that doll Mr. Potter had gifted to him before the school year started.

‘ _I’m getting soft if I’m admitting to sleeping with a doll, even if only to myself.’_

Severus sighed as he leaned back into the taller man.

“I have work to do.” Severus said. “I’m sure you do as well, Lucius.”

Lucius kissed Severus cheek.

“You should be doing your work and I should be doing mine.”

Lucius turned Severus’ head to give him a proper kiss. He trailed his fingers down to curl in the collar of Severus’ shirt.

A flash of red-orange flames caused them to jerk apart. Fawkes appeared in a blaze, parchment held carefully in his beak. Severus took the message from the phoenix and quickly read over it as flames surrounded Fawkes once more.

“Shit, there’s an attack going on in Hogsmeade right now!” And both of them were moving quickly through the school, wands out and alert.

“How many?” Lucius asked as they made it to the ground floor.

“Albus didn’t say. He only found out about it because Zonko’s exploded.” They were halfway to the gates, where they would be able to apparate the remaining distance. From where they were they could see smoke rising from the little town.

Fear gripped Lucius’ heart in a vice-grip. He did not know where his son was and he hoped with everything in him that Draco wasn’t in Hogsmeade. He hoped he was hidden away somewhere in the castle with Mr. Potter; hoped he was anywhere but in Hogsmeade. He didn’t want to have anything in common with the Weasleys. A shudder passed through him as he thought of them and their dead son. He wouldn’t allow that to be him, couldn’t allow that to be him. The second he was past the wards, he apparated.

Blood and magic met him. A few yards in front of him, a young girl in Hogwarts robes – younger than Draco – sat on the ground with an alarming amount of blood coming from her arm. Three young boys were in front of her, one trying to talk to her, but they were outnumbered – the three of them against five Death Eaters.

The world slowed down: his legs moved him forward as two killing curses from different sides flew towards the girl, one boy lunged in front of her as the other boy casually stepped forward to intercept the other one. The remaining boy set one of the Death Eaters on fire as the girl started to scream. Lucius swung the girl up into his arms, firing off two curses as he assessed where all the blood was coming from.

Her shoulder blade was sticking out of her skin, and a fountain of blood was flowing freely from the grotesque wound. To try and bind it now might cause more damage than good; after all, Lucius wasn’t a medi-wizard by any stretch. He rolled out of the way as a whip of flames set the remaining Death Eaters in front of him on fire. The remaining boy who had protected the girl in Lucius’ arms looked demonic as he raced into the fighting, fire coiled around him.

“Lucius, give her to me before she bleeds to death.” Minerva said as she reached for the girl. He easily handed her off, noticing that behind him Poppy had already set up a temporary area guarded by a few Order members, and that the battle seemed to be moving further up High Street.

The Dark Mark shot up into the sky, causing Lucius to move quickly, sprinting up the street as the fighting abruptly ended as Death Eaters everywhere appearated away. He skid to a stop next to his cousin, Sirius.

“Shit, we missed all the fun.” Sirius pouted and Lucius flinched away at the striking resemblance he had to Bellatrix – both in appearance and attitude.

“Cousin, you disturb me.” Lucius said as he assessed the damage done to Hogsmeade – a few stores were burnt to the ground, a few more still on fire, people were helping the wounded, and there were corpses littering the street. He didn’t see his son among the unmoving children which calmed his heart.

Albus stood outside the Hogs Head. The bar was in good shape and most likely he was coaxing the hidden people out, telling them the danger had passed. He caught sight of Severus, staring down at the street. Fear gripped his heart as he moved quickly to his lover’s side.

It was a child, but it wasn’t his child, and for that Lucius felt a sick sense of relief. The child couldn’t be more than 13, so this must have been their first Hogsmeade trip.

“I wonder how many children will have to be sacrificed to this madman before the end.” Severus whispered, mostly to himself. “Have you seen Draco?”

“No.”

“Good. Our son will not be lost to this.” It always made Lucius feel better to hear Severus refer to Draco as theirs. Lucius touched Severus’ arm gently.

“Poppy might need your assistance.”

Severus nodded, turning sharply to go offer his aide. Lucius spoke an identification charm over the dead body, watching as the child’s name shimmered above his crown. He reached into his pocket for a spare quill and something that could be transfigured into a card to write the child’s name on. He wrote the boy’s name in flowing script, being careful to write it slowly and legibly. He placed the card between the boy’s lips to show respect for the dead and moved on.

After identifying four more bodies, he found himself beside Sirius again. The other man was talking to the boy that Lucius had seen walk off with flames coiled tightly around him. Lucius had forgotten about him until then, but looking at him properly it was easy to tell the boy was Neville Longbottom.

“I saw her go in here though! She was blasted through the window. Oh Merlin, where is she? She – she…” Longbottom coked on his words, tears flowing down his face. “It was my-my fault! She – we were arguing… oh no, where is she?” Sirius pulled the boy closer as he descended into hysteria. Lucius wondered if Sirius was always this good at soothing hysterical children or if it came from being Mr Potter’s guardian. As messed up as the child was, he probably pulled off hysterical very well.

Sirius looked up at Lucius, mouthing ‘Ginny Weasley is missing’ to Lucius above the boy’s head.

‘ _Of course it would be another Weasley. How many children do they have to lose?’_

* * *

She couldn’t see.

“ _I wasn’t, ok?! I just reacted! You were screaming and I had to do something!”_

Roots were under her knees and it was so dark she couldn’t even make out the ground.

_She was airborne suddenly, and then glass was shattering and biting into her._

‘ _That’s right… Hogsmeade was under attack…’_

“Ginny, are you alright?” Luna’s hand came into her vision and relief flowed through Ginny. _‘Thank Merlin, Luna is alright.’_ Ginny thought as she grabbed Luna’s hand and pulled herself up. Luna’s hand was cold.

“Yes, what about Hogsmeade?”

“I’m so glad you’re alright.” Luna said, letting go of her hand to hug her.

“I’m glad you’re alright too.” Ginny rested her forehead against Luna’s, closing her eyes. ‘ _I wonder if Neville is okay. Did help come?’_

“We should prob-” Ginny was cut off as Luna pressed their lips together softly. _‘Why is she so cold? How long was I out for?’_

Luna stepped forward, causing Ginny to stumble back and trip on a tree root. Her back hit the ground and Luna’s elbow collided with her stomach, winding her briefly.

“Alright?” Ginny wheezed out. Luna smiled down at her, nodding. Buttons popped as Luna ripped her shirt open.

“What are -? ” And her words were swept away as Luna pressed kisses down her chest and fire sparked down her spine and raced through her blood. And a very important question occurred to her: why the hell was she in a forest with Luna when the last thing she remembered was the attack on Hogsmeade?

“You’re… not Luna.” Ginny said, not sure why she was so sure that this woman wasn’t Luna. Not-Luna sat up abruptly, straddling Ginny as she blinked down at her. Not-Luna smiled in a distinctly Not-Luna way and Ginny realized she was still burning inside.

“Well, it’s nice to know I was right about the appearance would allow me to put that on you.” She pointed to a pinprick of a mark that was centered between her breasts. It looked like an ink drop, small and unnoticable.

“What is it?” Ginny asked coldly. There were all sorts of poisons that started with simple marks like that one and even more dark spells and curses.

“Your newest birthmark. It means you are the heir to the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna and all her powers.” Not-Luna smiled down at Ginny, a proud gleam in her eyes.

“That’s nice and all… but I’m a Weasley. We’re a British pureblood family. We have absolutely no ties to Russia!” Ginny was going to go on, but Not-Luna interrupted her swiftly.

“Your family has no background whatsoever before Septimus Weasley. Anastasia ran from the revolt in Russia. Rasputin gave her one last spell before they parted ways and –” Not-Luna was cut off by Ginny.

“I don’t CARE what Anastasia did or did not do, it has nothing to do with me! I saw her picture in Russia recently; she had strawberry-blonde hair! We Weasleys are all red, RED, not strawberry-blonde! We have a sleeping Guide for heaven’s sake! I’m not related to a Grand Duchess; you’re crazy!” Ginny shouted, trying to roll the woman on top of her off. Not-Luna didn’t budge. Ginny felt the fire that was in her body boil and she writhed in pain; Not-Luna moaned above her and Ginny forced herself to stop moving. The fire simmered down, once more becoming a tame heat just below the surface.

“You have her eyes – the shape, not just the color – and her nose. And of course you all have red hair, if you hadn’t interrupted me I was getting there. Now, Rasputin gave Anastasia one last spell before they parted ways – this was after she was forced to watch her sisters murdered before her eyes and watch Rasputin kill the soldiers who would have killed her – and she ran to the island of Britain. Once she was here, she arranged for the Goblins to move only her money from the branch in Russia to a new account here and traded her diamond embedded robes for more money and legal documentation of a new identity. She changed her name to a man’s name – Septimus. Somehow she settled on a last name of “Weasley” and permanently changed her hair color to a vibrant red with a potion. To ensure that no one would ever make a connection between who she was now and who she had been, she decided to change a vital part of herself to make it impossible for anyone to make a connection – she changed her gender with magic. She didn't do it the slow way, didn't do it the _right_ way – she was in a hurry, wasn't she?” Not-Luna paused here, looking like the cat that caught the canary and got to keep their milk. Ginny was not impressed.

“Septimus Weasley is my grandfather. My parents say that there hasn’t been a Weasley in generations –” She was going to go on, but Not-Luna clamped a hand down on her mouth.

“You’ve never even met your grandfather. He died before you were born, was murdered to be more exact. Your father had two brothers, one of whom had four sons. You never met those children, as they were all murdered along with their parents by the same people. Your uncle Bilius died after seeing a Grim. Anastasia’s magic made 13 children male and then came you. The fourteenth child, the grandchild of Anastasia – and you are her heir.” Not-Luna removed her hand from Ginny’s mouth.

Ginny was no impressed but...that explanation would explain things, wouldn't it?

It answered things that Ginny had always wondered about her family – why were they poor if they were an old family? What happened to all the money? Why hadn’t she ever read of anything the Weasleys had done in history, especially when the other pureblood families sometimes had whole books dedicated to their contributions in history? Why didn’t she know where her family’s Guide was buried? Her mother always talked about cousins of hers, aunts, and even her grandparents – but Ginny had never heard her father mention anyone in his family beyond his parents and brothers. Probably because he didn’t know any of them, because they were all murdered during the revolt in Russia or died there, not knowing that Anastasia had survived.

‘ _But why does any of that matter to me, right now? That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t do anything for me at this moment - not when there’s a war going on.’_

“What does that have to do with me? Yay, I’m the heir to the Grand Duchess, but why are you telling me this? I have more important things to worry about then my bloodline!” Ginny pushed Not-Luna, trying to sit up. Not-Luna didn’t budge.

“Weren’t you listening? You have received her powers – her legacy. Rasputin gave her one last spell; it was used to enslave the ultimate protector for her. Rasputin loved her very much; she was the princess of his heart. He loved her more than his own life, more than his own soul, and he desperately wanted to protect hers.” Ginny wasn’t sure she was liking where this was going. She took a deep breath.

And was shocked she could see her breath when she exhaled. She was warm, perfectly warm in fact, but upon inspection she realized that the grass was wilting and that Not-Luna’s lips were turning blue.

‘ _Oh Merlin, no. No, no, no!’_ She thought to herself as the fire warmed her from the inside.

A cloaked figure swept into her vision and even though she wasn’t cold, she knew what it was. Even without hearing Tom’s voice slithering its way inside her head, telling her she was an expendable child and all his other lies, she knew it was a Dementor.

“That is your ultimate protector. The head of the group enslaved to protect you and yours. Rasputin wanted to protect Anastasia... and now he wants to protect you.” Not-Luna whispered in her ear. Ginny felt the fire wash through her, making her feel as she did when she was with Luna.

Not-Luna kissed her again and Ginny wished it was really Luna, wished it was really Luna moving against her, and not someone just taking her appearance. Her world went white and then silver and for a time she knew no more.

* * *

Draco adored the Library of Alexandria. It was huge and stuffed with all sorts of ancient scrolls and books. Scholars came from all around the world to read, to learn, and to communicate ideas. He’d only been to the library once before with his mother. He was young then, no more than eight or nine, and even then it had fascinated him. The dusty smell of the parchment, the tingle of the magic vibrating through the air, the ideas that existed preserved forever all in one place. The Library was a magical place in all senses of the word – even if half of its texts had gone up in flames.

“There was only so much time to move the materials, only so many people and only so many places to hide the texts. Thus, only a little above half was saved.” Harry’s sudden voice made Draco jump. Harry giggled behind him.

“Stay out of my head.” Draco muttered, only half serious.

“Make me.” Harry kissed Draco’s check. The skirts of the fluffy dress Harry was wearing brushed against him as Harry moved past him. Harry was wearing a blue dress with the skirts fluffed out and trailing the ground. His hair was down and dyed brown, with bangs covering the lightning scar. Harry was all dressed up because he was going to do something that no one had ever attempted before: steal from the Library of Alexandria.

The Library was a circular building, made of stone and stained glass windows. The center had desks and chairs for studying and people milled around carrying books or scrolls and tall, imposing stone shelves stuffed with books and scrolls lined the walls. There were no guards inside, mostly because they weren’t needed. In between the shelves, engraved on the ground, were all sorts of enchantments to prevent theft or copying charms. No one had ever actually attempted to steal from the library, but the enchantments were there as added insurance.

‘ _And here I am with Harry, planning to steal quite a few volumes.’_

Harry giggled ahead of him and a few people turned to look at him, and then took another look. Draco smiled to himself – he knew Harry was attractive; he could very easily pull off either gender considering that at the core, Draco doesn't think Harry really differentiates between them.

Harry hummed softly as he looked among the books. They were looking for three old books – a text on one of the first Magicks of Heaven rituals, a history book written by Aelia Peverall, and a book about something called ‘Erus’. Harry wouldn’t tell him what ‘Erus’ was, but he had looked on edge and even slightly scared. Whatever this ‘Erus’ was, it wasn’t pretty.

“ _You want to what?” Draco asked. Harry stared at him briefly before repeating his plans._

“ _I want to borrow some texts from the Library of Alexandria the next Hogsmeade visit. And I want you to come with me.” Harry said again._

“ _Why do you need me?”_

“ _Why wouldn’t I need you?”Harry tilted his head in confusion._

“ _Because I no doubt don’t know all the fancy ways to steal ancient texts from one of the greatest libraries still standing?”Draco countered. Harry sighed._

“ _I told you, I’m borrowing them, not stealing. Look, I just want you to come with me, is that so much to ask? I need to get these texts so I can give them to the Order. I should have done this ages ago, but I was just… I never did and I should have.”Harry said quietly, looking at his feet._

“ _What are you ‘borrowing’?” Draco asked, sitting down on the chair in his bedroom._

“ _A textbook on a Magicks of Heaven ritual that Merlin created, a text about the current times – it’s a history book now – and a compilation of… what Erus is.” Harry glanced up at Draco quickly, searched his face for something, and returned his gaze to the ground._

“ _Erus?”_

“Draco? We’re going now.” Harry’s voice broke him out of his memory. Draco nodded, grabbing his hand and turning to leave. He was sure they wouldn’t get far; sure they’d probably get violently thrashed the second they were out the threshold.

The sun shone merrily down on them as they stepped out onto the streets of Alexandria. Being a port city, the temperature wasn’t unbearably hot as Egypt is often stereotyped as being and indeed it was rather cool out.

“How did you do that?” Draco demanded once they were behind closed doors in a hotel room halfway across the city. Draco reached into his pocket, pulling a shrunken truck out, and resizing it once it was on the ground.

“I borrowed. The spells are designed to prevent theft… not borrowing. After all, it _is_ a library. You just have to know the spell to put on the books to… ‘check them out’, as it were. Over time, people have stopped passing on that spell, mostly because the knowledge was deemed too important to just allow out and about, but with someone like me…” Harry trailed off, placing the three rather large texts on a desk. He reached into the truck for his Hogwarts uniform, placing it on the bed.

“Of course.” Draco felt like slapping himself – of course someone with Harry’s memories would remember how to remove things from the Library, it was probably common knowledge at one point in time among certain circles.

Harry was clearly struggling with getting out of the dress. It looked simple enough, but the zipper in the back had buttons running down the length of it, making it look like it had a button up back as opposed to a zippered one.

Draco stepped up and started undoing the buttons. Harry’s arms dropped to his sides. Once all the buttons were undone, Draco unzipped the dress.

“Go sit and I’ll take your tights off.” Draco said and Harry giggled and went to sit on the desk. Draco reached up Harry’s dress to unroll the tights.

“You don’t have to do that you know.” Harry whispered. Draco smiled, throwing the tights over his shoulder as he placed a kiss to the side of Harry’s right knee.

“This just gives me a good excuse to look up your skirt.”

“I wasn’t aware you needed an excuse.” Harry said gently, smiling at him.

* * *

Molly clutched the battered teddy bear to her chest as she sat on Percy’s old bed. When the Death Eaters had raided their house, they hadn’t actually taken anything, just destroyed some plates and furniture, and set some things on fire. They hadn’t even opened Percy’s door.

_Arthur walked into the kitchen, looking as Molly must have when she got news that her beloved brothers were murdered. Kingsley was practically holding him up and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here._

“ _Arthur, what is it? Who…” She couldn’t finish._

“ _Maybe we ought to put him to bed. He’s… not hurt, but he needs rest.” Kingsley said, speaking carefully, almost wearily. They managed to get Arthur upstairs to their bedroom and gently put him to bed. Arthur didn’t speak or even acknowledge their presence. They both moved back down to the ground floor, and Kingsley steered her into the sitting room._

“ _Molly, I need to tell you something. It’s important, so I don’t want you to interrupt me, okay? Can you do that?” Kingsley spoke to her as she herself had often spoken to her kids when they were much younger. She made an irritated noise at being treated in such a manner, but nodded._

“ _We went to help France when Death Eaters attacked. You know that. There, Arthur fought a Death Eater and… Molly, there’s no easy way to say this. It was Percy. Percy was a Death Eater.”_

_Molly collapsed on a sofa. One of her babies was a Death Eater?_

“ _No…” She remembered when she got a letter home that Percy had gotten into a fight with one of the older Ravenclaws at Hogwarts because they called one of his friends a “mudblood”. How in the world had that boy turned into a Death Eater? Why?_

“ _Molly, that’s not… There’s more.” She looked at him in confusion. How could there be more? How much more of a failure of a mother could she be?_

_Kingsley kneeled in front of her, taking her hands, and Molly started to hyperventilate._

“ _He’s dead, Molly.”_

Tears trailed down her face as she clutched the teddy bear closer. Percy had taken all his things with him when he left. There were only a few things left, mostly stuff from his childhood. Old clothes, old books, old drawings, old stuffed animals, old letters from her, old, old, old. He didn’t need them when he left… they hadn’t been important enough to take.

A bundle of letters was stacked neatly on his desk. She had already looked over them, long before these last two pain filled days. It was every letter she had ever written to him, every little note she had given to him to remind him how much she loved him. They were deemed unimportant by Percy. And now…

And now…

“Molly…” _His_ voice sounded from the doorway. She didn’t turn to look at him, just continued to stare at the letters. He moved and put his hand on her shoulder. Something snapped in Molly, and she wrenched herself away from his touch.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” She roared at him, whirling to face him. He jerked back, looking miserable and haunted. He looked like he was in such pain.

“YOU KILLED MY BABY! **_MURDERER_**!” She pushed him with everything she had in her and he went crashing to the ground. She could hardly see him, the tears blurred everything.

“GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY BABY’S ROOM!” He went flying out of the room, crashing into the wall. He stood up, looking at her with pain filled eyes. It infuriated her.

Her hand struck his face and he was send back to the ground with the force of her blow. She didn’t pause, just descended on him, hitting him wherever she could reach. She hated him, hated him more than anything, she wanted him to hurt. After a few seconds, the strength left her and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. He stayed still underneath her for a time before finally sitting up to wrap his arms around her. She struggled weakly against him, not wanting to leave the comfort of his arms and hating them at the same time.

“He was my baby too, Molly. He was my baby, too.” He sobbed into her hair, broken and hurting. Just like her.

* * *

Blaise yawed as he listened to his year mates talk around him.

‘ _Really, just because Draco and the neutral kids are out doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t put up anti-eavesdropping spells. And they call themselves Slytherins?’_ Blaise could see that the older years obviously had the same thought-process if their annoyed looks were anything to go by.

“What about his relationship with Potter?” Parkinson spat out. Nott rolled his eyes before responding.

“Everyone knows they’re friends, but seriously if Potter were to drop dead I doubt it would affect him any. No, we need something else… something to say ‘you’ll pay for being a traitor’. This would be easy if he had a pet of some sort…” Nott trailed off, looking thoughtful.

“What about Granger?” Crabbe asked. The poor guy probably didn’t even understand why they were all out to get Draco; he just did as he was told.

“That would be good! After all, they’re obviously more close than Potter and Malfoy are.” Parkinson said. Blaise inwardly winced at the abuse of grammar – seriously, who taught this girl how to talk? She was a disgrace to aristocracy.

“I don’t want to die. If we go after Granger, Potter will kill us.” Goyle said sullenly. Nott seemed to pale a few shades, obviously seeing the other boys’ point.

“Look, the Dark Lord is already moving on this. Obviously he has plans for Malfoy. So, why don’t you lot just let it go? He’ll be dealt with.” Blaise said quietly, as if the rest of the common room hadn’t been listening in. He had everyone’s attention with that declaration, so hopefully this bought Draco some breathing room.

“Hogsmeade is under attack!” A little third year practically screamed as he burst into the common room. Everybody glared at him.

“Kid, we’re Slytherins. We do not shout or run or burst into rooms. Further more, the fact that we’re here obviously means we were told to stay out of Hogsmeade today. Thus the reason so many of us are here, along with a few Ravenclaws and a handful of Hufflepuffs. Now, if you don’t want to see your insides, I’d suggest sleeping somewhere else.” Claunsie, a sixth year, snarled out.

For the announcement it would seem as if their whole house was still in the school, which was ridiculous as half the kids in Slytherin actually came from neutral families. Blaise was sure that amongst the dead that Hogsmeade no doubt had there were a fair number of Slytherins.

‘ _I don’t care how many of us this war claims, that madman is not laying a hand on Draco. Not between me and Potter.’_

Blaise cracked his neck as he stood and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Parkinson asked suspiciously. Blaise rolled his eyes at her blatant show of emotions.

“Out.”

And Blaise walked out of the common room and headed for the deeper parts of the castle.

When the school was being built, the dungeons had been the primary area of study and living for the students, or so he had read. It made sense, as there were still unused classrooms and even dorm rooms. The bed frames were little more than broken and dusty wood, but it was still interesting to think of what once was. Back then they separated by year, but then the other Wizarding School that Hogwarts was competing with collapsed and the student body grew larger – thus the need for a full blown castle.

“I wonder if by the end of this war we’ll even need a castle anymore… so many of the new generation is dead or dying…” Blaise muttered to himself.

“The... castle... is... always... needed...” The raspy, gasping voice made Blaise whip around with his arm out. There didn’t appear to be anyone…

“Show yourself!” Blaise demanded, hoping that it was just Peeves playing a trick and not anything else, like disgruntled Housemates.

‘ _Then again… where has Peeves been…?’_

“Even… if… no… here… needed…” The raspy voice sounded again and it sounded like it was gasping for air and it was coming from… the wall?

“ _Lumos_.” Blaise turned his wand to the walls, not sure what he was looking for. “Say something!” He commanded, hoping that maybe the voice would lead him to it.

“Castle… always… needed…” The voice was weaker, but Blaise was close to it, just a few paces down the corridor and…

Peeves.

He looked like he was coming out of the wall and yet attached to it, almost like a stone sculpture than anything else. The normally bright and energetic poltergeist was dull and it seemed as if speaking or moving were too much of a trial for him. His arms were outstretched and from the waist down he was one with the wall.

“What in the world…?” Blaise whispered, not sure what he was looking at.

‘ _What manner of enchantment does something like this?’_

“You, boy, what are you doing down here?” The Bloody Baron’s sharp voice made Blaise turn sharply, wand still out, on high alert. The ghost glided towards him, mouth set in a scowl, probably ready to reprimand him for being out of bounds. Blaise could tell the moment the ghost saw Peeves – the Baron’s eyes widened and a look of urgency settled in.

“Boy, can you defend yourself?” He barked.

“Yes, but what’s happened to Peeves?”

“Not any of your concern right now. Stay here; I must go get the Headmaster. He is in Hogsmeade dealing with the current situation. I will return post haste, you must remain here. I hope, for your sake, you can defend yourself. I also hope you will not need to. Stay.” And he zoomed through the wall, leaving Blaise alone. He adjusted the grip on his wand.

‘Defend myself? Against what?’ He thought, the little hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up.

“Always… needed…”


	14. Chapter 14

Albus was grim as he looked at Peeves. Bill stood next to him, quietly unweaving the spells keeping Peeves connected to the stone wall. Mr. Zabini had already been dispatched back to the Slytherin common room.

“I can get him free, but I’m not sure what put him here. It’s obviously more than a mere prank, but other than that I have no idea what did this.” Bill stated grimly. Albus nodded. He had a good idea of what had happened.

“Bill, my boy, I must wonder if you have had any news from your parents…” Albus wasn’t sure why he brought it up, here when Bill was in the middle of concentrating and probably not in the mood to hear about his brother’s sad demise. But Albus had been in his shoes once and he knew how it felt to lose a sibling. He knew he would want to know.

“Yes.” Bill staid firmly, jaw set. There was no mistaking it – Bill knew about Percy’s unfortunate decisions and his death. He was probably told by another member of the Order, now that Albus thought about it. “Charlie and I know. The kids don’t.”

Albus nodded to himself. Molly and Arthur had finally come out of their caves of grief a little, long enough to tell him that they were sending a letter to the castle explaining about Percy and if any of the children want to talk to please connect the floo.

With a snap and a flash of golden light, Peeves was disconnected from his stone imprisonment. He hovered a few centimeters off the ground, looking at Bill in a peculiar way.

“Thank you, Bill. That’s all I need from you at this moment. Molly’s letter to your siblings should be here by now, if you wish to stay…” Albus trailed off, leaving the decision to Bill. The younger man nodded, once, before walking off. Albus sighed and turned to Peeves.

“Can you please tell me how you came to be conjoined with the dungeon wall, Peeves?” He asked pleasantly, being sure to twinkle with extra force.

“Peevesy was minding his own business, he was… when castle decided to eat Peevesy. It needed Peeves, so Peeves went.” Peeves rushed through his explanation, sounding like a frightened toddler. “It was toad-woman’s fault! But Peeves helped, he did. Peeves helped.”

Albus blinked, in shock more than anything else. _‘Peeves had been missing since Dolores was still alive and teaching here? And no one noticed? I never noticed?’_

“Thank you for helping, Peeves, it was much appreciated. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go check the state of the wards. Please allow the Bloody Barron to update you on current… affairs.” Albus swept away, heading deeper into the school. He had to check the wards: if what Peeves was saying was true, then they were almost compromised by Dolores. He couldn’t afford to have them weakened in any way right now.\

* * *

“What do you mean she just appeared?” Bill asked his brothers coldly. He had been terrified when Poppy told him that his baby sister had been in Hogsmeade when it came under attack and that she was missing from the students that were brought back. He was near hyperventilating at the very thought that two of his baby siblings – for the only one he called ‘younger’ and not ‘baby’ was Charlie – were dead. When the twins rushed in, one of them carrying her, he almost didn’t let Poppy near her. He was so, so happy that she was alive and there that he was crying, clutching her close. It wasn’t until Poppy snapped that he might be hurting her that he let his baby sister go and be attended to by the medi-witch.

“We were helping the Order and Aurors bring people into Hogwarts – the gates were as far as the wards would let any of the students go – and when we were going back out to help more… she was there. Once we got close enough, she fainted and we grabbed her. We performed a few identification spells on her, to be sure, so we know it’s her. She was just… there.” The twins spoke as a strange melding of voices and Bill found that he could tell them apart, vocally – Fred’s voice sounded closest to their father’s while George’s was slightly higher in pitch.

‘ _Huh, George sounds kinda like Percy… Dear Circe, they don’t know yet. None of them know yet…’_ Bill thought to himself in a near daze.

The infirmary was filled with injured students, Aurors, medi-witches and wizards bustling from one to another. The dead were being held in another room off Poppy’s office – apparently, that’s what it was for. Sometimes, Bill forgot that the school was very old and had stood during numerous wars, so it made sense that their was a room specifically for corpses. Still, there was the strong sense of just how _wrong_ it was for a school to have such a room.

“Where are Harry and Ron?” Bill asked, belatedly realizing that he should have asked that question first, all things considered. The twins look at each other, communicating something to each other, and Bill’s whole body tensed.

“Harry and Draco are in Alexandria, they left this morning. Ron and Hermione went to talk to her parents. They should be back –” They were cut off by the door opened to admit the very people they were talking about. Hermione and Ron hurried over to the twins, looking worried.

“Is everyone okay?” Hermione asked in a rush.

“Luna is a bit burned, she was the one responsible for Zonko’s exploding; Neville and Eleanor were put out, Neville for hysteria and Eleanor for medical healing; and Ginny is unconscious. Seamus and Dean are dead.” Fred spoke while George remained silent and somber. Hermione closed her eyes and sank into a chair. Ron’s fists clenched as he turned his head, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath. Hermione touched his arm gently and Ron visibly pulled himself together before sitting down next to Hermione.

“We had contact with Harry and Draco; they’re coming back right now. Apparently, they got what they needed.” Ron said speaking to the twins in such an authoritarian tone that Bill was struck by the sudden thought that his baby brother wasn’t a baby anymore. Hermione leaned on him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. She looked so small.

‘ _Not babies, but not adults either. They shouldn’t even have to deal with this shit.’_ Bill thought. A house-elf popped in, holding a folded bit of parchment in its hands. He looked at Hermione worriedly before presenting the parchment to Ron.

“For Harry Potter’s Wheezy, letter from mummy Wheezy.” The little creature said as Ron took the letter. As the house-elf popped away, Bill reached over and took the letter.

“That’s for all of you kids, so let’s wait till Ginny is conscious, shall we?”

They all fell into silence and Bill felt horrible that out of them, he was the only one who knew one of their own was dead.

* * *

Draco was quiet as he sat with Harry in the Headmaster’s office. When they had gotten back to the school, there was a lot of yelling on the half of the Order. Draco had half a million things he wanted to shout at them, but none of the words came. It was like he was trapped in his own space.

Harry had slammed the books onto the nearest table during all the yelling, causing a complete standstill as he explained what they were and where the books were from. He then went to sit next to Draco and they hadn’t moved since. That had been a good two hours ago, maybe three. And Draco was still caught in his own space.

Harry had lied to him. All things considered, that wasn’t exactly correct; it wasn’t so much as a lie as a withholding of information and manipulation of facts. Harry had not dragged Draco with him to Alexandria because he simply wanted Draco there; he brought Draco along because of the attack on Hogsmeade. Harry didn’t want Draco anywhere near the attack, like a parent shielding their child.

“ _You don’t trust me to be able to handle myself in a battle situation, is that it? I’m obviously just a helpless damsel you have to protect!” Draco snapped at Harry, who was looking confused and upset._

“ _That’s not – ”_

“ _You just said it was! You just said you did this today because you knew there was going to be an attack on Hogsmeade and didn’t want me there.” Draco was going to continue shouting, but Harry cut in when he paused for breath._

“ _I just didn’t want you to be in danger, is that such a bad thing?” Harry was getting louder, not quite shouting yet, but his voice was at least raised. Draco felt a little smug about it – he never realized how much he disliked Harry’s maturity until then._

“ _You’re not supposed to – Harry, I’m not your CHILD: I’m your lover, your boyfriend, YOUR PARTNER!” Draco wasn’t really sure where this was coming from. He knew Harry didn’t view him as a child, but sometimes Harry’s constant worry about him grated on his nerves. Harry looked a little taken-a-back from his outburst. It was some time before Harry spoke._

“ _You’re right, I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t mean for it to come across in that manner. I’m used to manipulating the board around you, moving all my pieces around you, to protect you. But you’re right; you’re not a child anymore. You’re my partner and I should treat you accordingly. I just… I worry, you know? I made sure Ron and Hermione were gone, too, practically bullied Hermione into talking to her parents today so they were away from Hogsmeade.” Harry whispered, looking at Draco._

“ _Those books… why are you giving them to the Order?” Draco was satisfied with Harry’s explanation. He knew Harry worried, knew the other boy didn’t mean to treat Draco like a child sometimes; it happened._

“ _They’re important. History is important. This war is much more complicated than they think it is… than you think it is. I can’t just tell them something without having facts to back it up; especially since what I’m telling them is so complicated and hard to believe. I know it’s true because it is and I was there, but I can’t just tell them something like this without having outside sources.”_

_So, it did have to do with memories Draco no longer had, memories that Draco would regain… eventually. Draco was never sure how to talk about them with Harry – after all, with what little he knew, how could he be sure that Harry knew more then he did? Or that Harry knew how this worked?_

‘ _Because he knows you get headaches when you remember things and he comes to you during those times. Because you know, at the very least, that Harry is the one that remembers. Because you remember things the clearest when you and he are intimate together – you remember more when intimacy occurs.’ A little voice in the back of his mind whispered to him, urging him to just come out and_ _ **ask**_ _the fucking question that had been itching to be asked for weeks, months now._

_Harry reached up to fiddle with his hair and briefly the light caught on the diamond bracelet that had a permanent home on his wrist. Blaise had almost choked when Draco told him what the gift symbolized after he happened to catch a glimpse of it during classes. He trusted Blaise with something that important._

_He grabbed Harry by the wrist, fingers closing over the bracelet, and pulled the other boy closer._

“ _When I gave you this, I was professing my desire to pursue marriage one day.” Harry nodded, clearly confused and anxious. “I need to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly.” Draco paused, staring into Harry’s eyes. After a few seconds, Harry nodded, still looking anxious. “Do you love me?”_

“ _Yes.” Harry didn’t hesitate in his answer. He still looked utterly bewildered._

“ _My memories…” Here, Harry tried to back away, turning his head to the side and biting his lip. Draco yanked him closer once more, chests touching, and Harry whimpered. “They come quicker, faster, and clearer when we’re together, like this.” Draco pressed their lips together, once, twice, before pulling away. “That’s the reason we don’t go any further, isn’t it? There’s something there that you don’t want me to remember.”_

_And Harry looked horrified._

“ _No, no, that’s… no.” Harry shook his head frantically, trying to explain. “That’s not… Draco how much do you know about what happened to me over the summer?” Harry asked. Draco remembered blood and broken bones and Limbo._

“ _Your Uncle almost killed you.”_

“ _Is that all you thought it was?” Harry asked, looking at Draco’s hand where it’s still curled around his wrist. He cleared his throat. “Your virginity is important Draco. I just… don’t want to rush you, us. Like that.”_

_And that old suspicion was starting to creep up along Draco’s spine because he had been wondering about this for months._

“ _You want my first time to be special, because yours wasn’t.” Draco said quietly, trying to push the subject to the surface. Harry took a deep breath before closing his eyes._

“ _I was seven. I was a_ _ **baby**_ _. He had no right to… it was wrong, it was wrong, and I just want to make sure you don’t ever feel that dirty and used and abused and disgusting. It wasn’t right.” Harry didn’t cry and he didn’t have glassy eyes or anything like that. He just looked revolted and enraged. And Draco didn’t ask any other questions, because they weren’t important._

He was brought back to the present by Albus Dumbledore clearing his throat.

“Somehow I think you’re about to explain all this rather horrifying but interesting pieces of history, Mr. Potter?” He said, looking at them. Harry took a breath before explaining.

“Merlin tried to create a Guide – it wasn’t that hard, they’re really nothing more than glorified human sized dolls. They have no soul and they can’t really die – if they break they just fix themselves. And they’re fanatically loyal. And, because of how they’re created and how much magic goes into them they’re also very, very powerful. It’s why they made perfect soldiers for warring families.

“But Merlin wanted to put something powerful into his Guide, wanted it to be the most powerful. He experimented for decades before he came across an idea. A wonderful, horrible idea. He would create the strongest force of magic and put it into his Guide – he would create a demon and seal it inside a Guide, so it would be forced to obey his whims.

“It would be perfect for Rome – no longer would they need to use the Legion to conquer nations, this single Guide would do more damage then any army of man. That was the idea, anyway.” Harry stopped here, running his fingers across the books. The only reason the books were even there was to prove what Harry was about to explain, to prove that he wasn’t just making this up or insane.

“He used and created many Magicks of Heaven rituals to create this demon – he massacred villages and nations and his own people. He devoted everything he had to this project and it was eating him alive from the inside out. He wasn’t the same, he became twisted with power and greed and obsession. He invaded Khemet – Egypt as it’s now known – and took some scriptures from the Palace in Cairo depicting how to summon bits of Egyptian Gods inside you. With a few tweaks his masterpiece was almost done. All that was left was to go through with it.”

“Muggles say it was a plague that swept through Rome. It wasn’t a plague, it was a massacre – people screaming and buildings being ripped open and the horrible laughing. So many people…” Harry was looking off, seeing something only he could see. “And I was screaming ‘what have you done, Merlin, what have you done?’ because it wasn’t stopping, it was spreading and _eating everything_. It was like the ultimate Magick of Heaven ritual gone mad and Merlin was laughing, oh Circe, he was laughing… And before him his doll stood up and Merlin started to chant and then _nothing happened._ It had gotten away from him; it was destroying the whole Western portion of Rome and beyond.” Harry blinked, seeming to come back to himself.

“He is the reason the Roman Empire split in two and later fell. If he hadn’t unleashed that… _thing_ none of it would have happened – or at least it wouldn’t have happened in that era. Men, woman, children – gone – ripped apart and devoured for nothing, for curiosity. For shits and giggles, essentially! And he didn’t even know what he was doing!” Harry was yelling, sounding half hysterical. He gasped a few times, body shaking, before he sat down; blinking as if confused. Draco knew the feeling well – the dizzying, almost double vision; the knowledge that what he was seeing was both the present and the past.

“Reincarnation isn’t unheard of: it’s very rare, but typically it’s only ‘this person was alive 5 centuries ago and is now reborn in the same family’ deal. You sound… much older.” Albus said, calmly staring at Harry over the top of his spectacles.

“I was a general in the Roman Legion and an adviser to Merlin.”

“You’re the reincarnation of Lady Saliar?” Albus asked, which made Draco wary because how did he know that name?

“How do you know that name?” Harry asked sharply.

“We have another book, a journal we found through our own sources that confirms much of your story. It mentions Lady Saliar and I connected her to you. Black hair, green eyes, and a lighting bolt birthmark on her shoulder – it seemed like a few too many coincidences.” Albus said, smiling at Harry.

“I like my hair and eyes. The lighting bolt this time around was a freak accident.” Harry says dazed.

“Not that I don’t like finding out more about you, Mr. Potter, but I’m afraid I don’t see how this applies to today’s current events.”

“When Merlin’s doll broke and he realized he had no control over the thing he created and as he lay at my feet, broken and believing I had taken everyone he loved from him, he invoked another ritual – sealing the thing into a staff. His staff. Doing so ripped his soul apart and his body froze completely from the inside. I had realized what he was doing, so I helped.

“Between the two of us, we got it sealed. Merlin will never touch these shores again because there is no part of him left that exists as we know it. I hid the staff, for centuries, trying to figure out a way to ensure the thing inside of it never escaped, trying to figure out how to destroy it. When the Byzantine Empire was breathing it’s last an upstart politician somehow found it.

“I still have no idea how he did it, but he _broke the staff_ , the incompetent fool. Being locked away without food weakened it, so it possessed the fool and that’s what caused the last massacre before the Empire collapsed on itself. It possesses people, fuels their desires and greed, and urges them to kill as many people as possible in short amounts of time – to bask in bloodshed and carnage, because it feeds off that.

“It’s the thing that attached itself to Tom Riddle in a moment of great weakness.”

* * *

It was cold and wet and dark. Serpentine eyes took in the surrounding atmosphere. He hated this place, this place that houses a portion of himself that he discarded, once, long ago.

_You need it back. I cannot help you as you are, you are broken. She will not want you as you are; you are broken._

“I cast these aside for a reason.” Never mind that he doesn’t know the reason anymore, never mind that a part of him knows his Diamond will always accept him, not matter what he is or how broken.

_I cannot help you if you are not complete._

And the threat of never seeing Diamond again, of having her forever barred from him, moves him into the darkness to greet his oldest horcrux and rejoin with the fragment of soul he cast aside many, many years ago.

After this one he’ll have five more to re-find. And then, at long last, his master would give him Diamond and they would be together again.

* * *

Ginny opened her eyes to bright, bright light. Seconds after she squeezed her eyes closed and groaned, Madam Pomfrey, identified by her voice, handed her a potion to drink.

“Miss Weasley, I’m glad you’re alright.” Madam Pomfrey said as she helped her sit up. “A few of your brothers are outside, along with Miss Granger, to inquire after your health. Your friends are too, but as you’re still weak I’ll just let in your siblings and Miss Granger.” She bustled off towards the doors.

Within minutes her bed was covered with her brothers and Hermione. Bill, whom Ginny was somewhat alarmed to see, scooped her into his side while the twins each held one of her hands. Ron and Hermione sat on the edges facing her with smiles.

“We were really worried about you, little missy.” Bill said planting a kiss to the top of her head. She smiled – Bill kisses had made her smile since she was a baby – and looked up at her eldest brother.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Ron and Hermione chuckled, Fred and George smiled widely, and Bill rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing here anyway?” She questioned Bill, who tensed and paled quite a few shades. Her alarm increased.

“I have a letter for you guys. From mom and dad,” He choked out. He stuck his hand into a pocket and pulled out a letter, handing it to the nearest sibling, which happened to be one of the twins. They read it together, expressions becoming grimmer before they passed it to Ron. Hermione read the letter over his shoulder and she gave off more expression then Ron – she looked horrified and sad, whereas Ron blanked his face of all expression.

Someone was dead. _‘Please don’t be Charlie, please, please don’t be Charlie.’_ She thought to herself as Hermione gave her the letter. She read it and felt numb inside. Like a cold weight flowed throughout her body, anchoring her down.

It wasn’t Charlie.

It was Percy and he was dead. He was a Death Eater and now he’s dead. Percy was dead. Her older brother who used to play dolls with her was dead. He used to read with her. He sometimes tucked her in at night. He used to sing her lullabies when she was sick. And the last thing she said to him was ‘ _I don’t want to talk to you, save your ink for someone else._ ’

And now she can never apologize.

* * *

The dorm seemed uncomfortably larger. Neville sat on his bed, staring at the space where Seamus and Dean’s beds used to be, where their trunks once were, in a numb state of horror. There were only three people sharing this room now.

“Neville?” Harry opened the door gently, peeking in at him. Neville looked up at him, his eyes burning because this was wrong. This was wrong.

“It’s too big.” He said as Harry sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Neville curled into him, because Harry gives wonderful hugs – the kind Neville used to dream about when he still had dreams about miraculous recoveries or a night where Lestrange hadn’t come to his house to torture his parents.

“I know, I know,” Harry says, smoothing his hair back and kissing the top of his head, like when he was eleven and woke up from a nightmare about screaming and laughter and Harry was there, trying to calm him. “It’s gonna feel weird for a long time, but it’ll get batter. I hate to say this, but I’m really glad you’re alright, Nev. I know it’s not fair or right and this is all messed up, but… sometimes things happen.” Harry continues, sounding gentle and older than ever. Everything was wrong.

“They’re really gone.” Neville muttered into Harry’s shirt, memories of the attack coming back.

_Dean trying to hold a shield while Neville tried to create a fire-whip._

_Seeing Seamus defending a family long enough for the parents to get their kids to safety._

_Both of them jumping in front of Eleanor, green light ricocheting towards them._

The moment of time that was a mix of fire, ash, burning hair, and thrumming magic pulsing through his body, leaving him drunk and feeling strange.

“Something strange happened after they – after they – d-died.” Neville could feel tears rolling down his face and Harry was rubbing his back and this was just like he was eleven after having a nightmare. “I created and held my fire-whip but, it was strange, I didn’t feel right. Everything was strange and…” And he thinks he went a little crazy.

“It felt like you were at the edge of a cliff, looking down at yourself feeling like you wanted to cry and scream and laugh all at once. It was like looking at a stranger in your body, doing things and you couldn’t help but find everything _funny_ and it felt like you were about to laugh yourself to pieces except certain parts of you already felt broken.” Harry says and Neville is somewhat amazed that someone else knows so well what those moments were like because he was sure no one else would understand. He pulls away from Harry, drying his eyes, to look at the other boy.

He looks so much older than a fifteen year old should. Neville doesn’t blame him, he feels much older than he should too.

“I’m a murderer.” Neville whispers because out of everything, that’s what is bothering him the most. He can take dead friends, he can take war, he can take seeing dead children; he was prepared for those things when Harry came back last year saying the Dark Lord was back. He didn’t know he’d have to be prepared to be a murderer at fifteen years old.

“I know.” Harry whispered. “So am I.”

And this was real. This was really happening. He was a murderer, he _killed someone_. He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet and already he had defended his life and been forced to kill someone. He felt so violated somehow, because this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He should be talking about sex with Seamus and Dean, because they’re fifteen year old boys. He should be stressing about his schoolwork and having a crush on some pretty girl. Or maybe a cute boy, he didn't even know which one he preferred, if he preferred one _at all_. He shouldn’t be thinking about how Seamus and Dean’s families are going to take the horrible news of their deaths. He shouldn’t be worried about how he’s gonna go through the rest of the day without breaking down crying thinking about how it felt to slice someone in half, how easy it was and how hard. He shouldn’t be worried about what he’s going to say to Eleanor, shouldn’t have to feel like screaming at her and hugging her at the same time.

He wasn’t ready to deal with any of this stuff, he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know what to do. He cried in Harry’s arms until he slipped off into sleep, emotionally drained.

* * *

Ginny was let out of the infirmary hours ago. She had just been wandering Hogwarts since then, trying to think of what to do. She didn’t want to deal with any of the aftermath of the attack – people she knew, people she saw _everyday_ , were dead. One of her older brothers was dead. Her friends were dead. She wasn’t even who she thought she was anymore; apparently she was the heir to fucking _Russian royalty._

‘ _What is my life?’_ She thought to herself.

She found herself sitting on a window seat, alone on the fourth floor, looking out over the grounds. To think that just this morning people had been alive that are now dead. Just this morning her friends had been joking around, laughing, filled with life… Seamus and Dean were older than her. They were Ron and Harry’s age.

And now they’re dead. Will she die by the end of this war? Will another of her brothers? Another friend?

Luna?

“Ginny.” Eleanor was standing next to her, fumbling with her shirt, looking down. She looked small and nervous again, like she had before the DA. Before she got out of her shell and learned to be confident in herself.

“Ellie.” She had only just started calling Eleanor by a nickname recently; the one who came up with the name had been Dean.

“Dean called me that.”

“Do you want me not to call you that?” Ginny didn’t know how to do this conversation, they should be talking about what happened, she should be asking Eleanor how she felt, if she was okay… She didn’t know how to do this conversation, and she was doing it wrong.

“No… I like it. You can call me that; it’s what he would have wanted.” The other girl sat down at Ginny’s feet, back to the wall. Ginny nodded, even though Eleanor wasn’t looking at her. Ginny didn’t even know where to begin – Eleanor’s shoulder was obviously healed and she didn’t have any visible cuts or bruises anymore, so asking her if she was okay was rather pointless.

‘ _How am I going to show Ellie I’m here for her if I can’t even tell her I’m concerned about her? For Merlin’s sake, I don’t even want to have this conversation – I just want to go to bed, curl up, and pretend this isn’t happening.’_

“Dean told me he liked me. This Hogsmeade visit was supposed to turn into our first date.” Eleanor whispered, staring blankly ahead of her. Ginny felt the bottom of her stomach fall out – what was she supposed to do here?

“I’m sorry.” Ginny reached a hand down to Eleanor’s hair, wanting to _do something_ to help. Eleanor smacked her hand away.

“He’s dead because of me. Seamus and he protected me and they’re dead because of me.” Eleanor was still just staring blankly ahead. Something scorching welled up inside Ginny, demanding to be let out.

“Don’t say that! Don’t take that from them!” The scorching thing burst out of her, and Ginny thought that maybe she shouldn’t be yelling at Eleanor, but she couldn’t help it. “They wanted to protect you; they did what they did because they care about you! Don’t take that from them, that wasn’t your fault; it’s not yours to take!” She finished vehemently.

Eleanor turned to look at her, looking a little gob smacked. Ginny looked away, uncomfortable with her outburst.

“I’ll give them that, but that attack on Hogsmeade was my fault. Warren told me it was all arranged so Voldemort could get me – something about needing a puppet or something in Hogwarts and how I’ll be able to hurt Harry or get close to him or something. The attack was my fault.” And now Eleanor was crying – not great, ranking sobs or whole body tears, just silent tears running down her face while she looked at Ginny with a lost expression.

Ginny wasn’t sure what to say. Demand proof? Prove she didn’t believe Eleanor? Believe her? What should she say?

“I don’t think this was your fault.” Ginny said slowly. “You said it yourself: Voldemort arranged the attack. He ordered his followers there, his followers killed people, injured others, set things on fire. This is his fault.”

They didn’t talk after that.

* * *

Hermione sat next to Ron, not thinking about anything in particular. Ron had his arm around her and was looking into the fire. Draco was sitting on the floor, a blanket around his shoulders. The Malfoy heir looked out of place in the Gryffindor common room. People were giving the odd trio their space and for once the common room was eerily quiet. People cried to themselves or just sat in their corners, reeling from the attack. After all, Seamus and Dean weren’t the only dead students being held in that room off the infirmary.

Harry came downstairs and sat next to Draco.

“Neville’s asleep.” He said quietly. For a few moments no one said anything. The four of them just sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts.

“I went to my parent’s house to talk to them, like you told me to. I didn’t like how it ended.” Hermione said. Harry waved his wand and put a silencing charm and privacy charm around them. Draco turned his head towards her, not quite facing her, but she supposed that was all she was getting.

“I told them about the war. About Harry’s role in it, about the danger, the people dying, the attacks. For once, I told them the truth. Mama told me she was pregnant.” Hermione felt strangely old referring to her mother by such a childish name. “That I was putting my family in danger. I tried to tell them that we could protect them but they wouldn’t listen.”

“ _The Order of the Phoenix can protect you!”She said strongly, tears in her eyes. ‘Harry can protect you,_ _ **I**_ _can protect you!’ she thought to herself._

_Her mother shook her head, eyes closed and lips pursed._

“ _Yes, because from what you’ve told us that worked wonderfully for the Weasley’s – not to mention the Potters!” Her dad yelled at her. He_ _ **yelled**_ _at her. He never yelled at her._

“They told me to pick – my family and the “safe” muggle world, or the “dangerous” wizarding world. I tried to explain that neither were safe, that Voldemort killed muggles too, that just because the worlds were separate didn’t mean they were islands, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

“ _Neither world is safe, Mr. Granger.” Ron said quietly from his seat next to her._

“ _I will not have you endanger this family anymore.” Her mother had never sounded so cold. Where was the woman who gave hugs of warmth and spoke so gently? “We have to leave our home every summer you’re here to prevent you uprooting our lives. And now we’re finally going to have a_ _normal_ _family, I’m not letting you take that, too. I’m tired of living in fear of your world.” Her mother said calmly, hands on her slightly protruding stomach._

_Hermione could feel hot tears making their way down her face. Her father was holding a picture, looking at it with a devastated expression._

“They kicked me out. I grabbed a few things from my room and left.” She didn’t cry as she explained this, just leaned on Ron and absorbed his warmth.

_Her room was already in a transition stage. Boxes littered the floor and her bed was completely stripped._

_A sudden burst of anger filled her – were they_ _ planning _ _on getting rid of her? What, now that they had a baby, a baby that had a chance at being “normal,” she wasn’t important?_

_She grabbed one of the boxes and dumped it out on the floor. Old report cards from primary schools, childish book reports, old books that Hermione hadn’t read in years – all useless now apparently._

_She dumped another box over – trophies and ribbons from various academic contests and spelling bees. Useless. Meaningless._

_Another box. Pictures of family holidays and summer camps. Worthless. (She ignored Ron stuffing them all into a box he was holding.)_

_Another box. Her old clothes, baby shoes and a few baby outfits. Maybe they’d give these to her little sister or brother that she’ll never meet?_

_The last box has a few of Hermione’s school books from Hogwarts – her first few magical textbooks – and various other odds and ends from her world. She grabbed it and looked around her room one last time – should she grab whatever clothes she has in her closet? She decided not to, they’re probably too small anyway. After all, she grew a few inches again over the course of the school year. The only pair of shoes left in the closet are a pair of disgusting formal shoes that she’s always wanted to set on fire._

_This is the messiest she’s ever seen her room – things are scattered all over the floor, boxes are overturned from where she tossed them aside._

“ _Hermione.” Ron’s voice is soft, his touch on her elbow gentle. She turns to face him (again ignoring the box in his grasp) and realizes this is the first time he’s seen her bedroom._

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” Hermione asked Harry.

“I’ve known since you were thirteen, yes. The only reason I pushed for it to happen now was because I didn’t want you two at the attack in Hogsmeade.” He said quietly. She nodded – it didn’t shock her that he knew something so personal for so long without telling her.

“What are you going to do about the summer?” Draco asked, turning fully to look at her. He didn’t look pitying or smug or disturbed. Just curious and a little concerned.

“She’s staying with us, of course. Weather my parents like it or not – I think it’ll do mom good to have something else to think about, you know?” Ron said. Draco nodded.

“Oh, I forgot.” Harry whispered, sounding a little bereft. He turned to Ron, reaching a hand out to touch his knee. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Hermione wondered how long Harry had known that Percy was going to die. _‘Was it like Cedric, when he knew months in advance? Did he know that Percy had become a Death Eater? Did he even know Percy was going to die?’_ She wasn’t sure if asking those questions were appropriate.

“Can you tell me if they’re having a girl or boy?” She asked. Harry turned to look at her, staring at her unblinkingly for long seconds. When he stared like this he even unnerved Luna.

“I haven’t seen anything about it just yet. To be honest, I’m not sure I will. Traditionally, I see death more often than life.” He said. She nodded; it didn’t matter anyway, she wouldn’t be a part of their life either way.

She fell asleep against Ron’s shoulder.

* * *

Classes for the rest of the year were tense; news of attacks, not as big as the one in Hogsmeade, but big enough, littered study groups and more than once students had to up and leave classes when they were suddenly reminded of something so-and-so had done or liked or anything. It wasn’t easy. Fred and George seemed to take it upon themselves to cheer the school up; they worked overtime at making sure everybody in a ten foot radius of them was smiling.

The first few meetings of the D.A. were torture. Harry emphasized the physical and worked them into the ground. Whenever someone wanted to rest, Harry threw Seamus and Dean in their faces. It made some of them genuinely hate him for awhile, but time made them get over it. They all knew why he was working them so hard – he didn’t want any of them to die. He didn’t want to see anymore dead children.

Before anyone knew it, the summer holidays were upon them. Albus spoke beautiful words, once again naming the children that did not make it to this point, and stressing that next year the school would reopen its doors.

And now they were waiting for the train. Every teacher and a few aurors were loitering about for added protection. The Order of the Phoenix was no longer in hiding; they wore white robes with a bright phoenix decorating the back. They stood out, but it seemed to have the added effect of making the students feel safer.

“We got accepted into the Order.” Fred said, literally out of the blue. They had all just been standing there when he spoke up.

“Congratulations. Be very careful.” Harry said, not looking away from Draco, who was tucking a stand of hair behind his ear.

“Thanks, Harry, means a lot that you can take yourself away from Draco long enough to listen to us.” George said jokingly. He may have been joking but there was a certain air of pride about him that he didn’t have before.

“I won’t see him for a few months. I’ll be with Sirius and Remus and he will be with his father and Severus, who will be staying with Neville.” Harry said, still not looking away from Draco.

“He’s still going to be there if you take your eyes off him for a few seconds, hun.” Ron says, trying not to grin. Draco grinned, leaning over to kiss Harry, before he could even bother to respond.

The train rolled in as he pulled away.


	15. Chapter 15

Summer was not going the way Ginny thought it would. With all the chaos of last year she expected much of the same – attacks, raids, massacres, wide spread panic, that sort of thing. She expected the Order of the Phoenix to be in full swing, always coming and going.

She did not expect to be bored.

She already did all her summer assignments, even the ones Harry had assigned the D.A., and wrote long letters to Seamus and Dean’s families expressing her sorrow at their loss. She hadn’t heard back from them and honestly didn’t think she would any time soon. If ever.

There was no news of any attacks or movement of any kind from Voldemort. She had expected chaos, had braced for a war, but was not prepared for boredom.

“Hey, Gin, you okay?” Charlie stuck his head into her room, sounding casual. Charlie and Bill had come home around the same time she came back from Hogwarts, and Bill brought along Fleur Delacour, whom he met through Gringotts. They shared a room and Ginny wasn’t sure what she felt about that relationship.

“I’m fine. Just thinking, you know?” Ginny finally responded. Charlie came to sit next to her. “It’s weird, I’m _bored_. We’re in the middle of a war and I’m bored. There’s something so horribly wrong about that.” Ginny continued. Charlie nodded in understanding.

“Come downstairs. Hermione’s teaching Fleur a logic puzzle, the twins and dad are messing with a muggle felephone or something, and Ron and Bill are making lunch. It’s stir-fry.” He said, trying to smile enticingly. Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother, but got up and headed downstairs anyway.

Sure enough, when Ginny reached the ground floor, Hermione was in the middle of explaining something to an interested Fleur while the twins and dad messed with something on the floor nearby. Their father was holding up rather well. He sometimes became silent and stared off into space or had to leave the room abruptly, but at least he interacted with them.

Ginny went to sit with Hermione and Fleur, while Charlie went into the kitchen, most likely to help with lunch. It was weird coming home with Hermione and it was weird seeing her interact with everybody; Ginny never realized how integrated Hermione was into the family until this summer. She knew where everything was, she got into fights with Fred and George, she helped around the house, and even helped with cooking – it was like she was already part of the family. They shared a room, which was the norm, although this summer everything Hermione owned fit into her school trunk.

“Lunch!” Charlie called. Everyone got up and walked into the kitchen and found a seat at the table. Hermione helped Ron and Charlie dish food out and Bill made a plate to take up to Molly. Lunch was delicious, if quiet.

* * *

Luna sat quietly as she looked at her ceiling. Her mother’s painted smile smiled down at her. She had been staring at her ceiling for awhile, seriously contemplating something. She had painted her mother from memory shortly after the woman died, out of a want to keep her near. She had pictures, of course, but her ceiling portrait had always warmed her heart. Her mother used to be the single most important thing to her next to her father, so when the woman died Luna had wanted to keep her close somehow.

But now she was thinking of changing it, of painting over it and putting something in its place. Her mother, may she always be in her heart, was no longer the most important thing to her. She had dear friends and Ginevra. Ginevra, who made her heart race and unstuck her words; Ginevra, who never looked at her like she was weird and stood up for her; Ginevra, one of the most beautiful people she’d ever met. Luna was even drawn to the redhead’s magic, which was bubbly and warm.

It wasn't just Ginevra either – Harry, Hermione, Ron, and even Eleanor were important to her. Seamus and Dean were dear to her and their deaths made her heart ache, but now they were safe from all harm.

She had to plan out how she wanted her ceiling to look and how much space everyone got. Did she want the painting to be casual or formal? Should it be a big group picture or have each person in their own corner in a frame?

Her train of thought was broken by an owl flying through the open window over her bed. She didn’t recognize the owl, but apparently it didn’t matter as the it just dropped an official looking piece of parchment on her side table and flew back out the window. Picking it up revealed it to be from the Finnegan family:

_Dear Ms. Lovegood,_

_We thank you for your kind words about our son. Your tidings fell upon our grieving ears and for a time lifted us. We are going through Seamus’ things and abiding by his wishes – apparently, he wrote down some requests as to where his things are to go before the Yule holidays. He wished for you to have a portion of his trust fund, which we have already discussed with Gringotts and they are taking care of all financial transactions between our families. It isn’t much, but it was what he wanted. We also ask for you to tell one Ginerva Weasley and one Eleanor Gunn that the remaining portions of Seamus’ trust fund has been wired as per his request._

_With this, we wish to extend our wishes for you to be safe and live a long life. We have no desire for extended contact with any of you and are moving out of the country due to the current political atmosphere._

_From,_

_The Finnegan Family_

Luna sat the letter down. Dean’s family hadn’t responded to her letter yet, but she didn't hold it against them. Grief had a way of making time move funny.

“Luna, darling, your friend is here.” Her father’s voice floated up from downstairs. Luna rushed downstairs with a smile on her face. She had invited Eleanor to spend some time with her so neither of them would be too lonely.

Hopefully, this would help them both.

* * *

No matter how old you get, you need people who love you. Sirius firmly believed that, which meant that finding out his adoptive child was older than he was by several centuries didn’t hurt him or make him second guess his place in Harry’s mind and heart. Harry may be old, but he still needed a father. He still needed people who cared about him. Sure, he might not need a bedtime or strict rules to make him behave, but really that just made things easier for Sirius; this way he didn’t need to fumble through raising a child and hoping that he didn’t screw the poor kid up.

He was taken out of his thoughts by a tea kettle’s shrill. He turned the heat off with a flick of his wand and poured some tea into a cup to take into a sitting room. Surprisingly, Grimmauld Place was full of sunlight this summer, mostly due to the fact that Sirius had spend a lot of time taking down walls and adding more windows to the place. His mother’s old room was cleared and cleaned from top to bottom, and made into an infirmary. His and Regulus’ old rooms were merged into one through the take-down of a wall, which was where the Order mostly held meetings now. He had also added a window to the space, so meetings were filled with sunlight or moonlight instead of darkness. Many of the portraits were tossed into the fire along with tapestries and other various things that Sirius was glad to be rid of. Like Kreacher, who dove after his mother’s portrait and burned along with the damned thing.

Remus and Harry were in the drawing room. Remus was pouring over some maps while Harry sat near a window with a book open in his lap. Sirius passed the tea to Remus, who looked up briefly to smile at him, before returning to his maps. They sat in comfortable silence; Remus looking over his maps and drinking his tea, Sirius relaxing in an armchair, and Harry staring out of a window. Eventually, the silence was broken by Harry.

“I’ve had children of my own; many of them, in fact.” He said quietly, not looking at either of them. Remus stopped pouring over his maps and turned his full attention to Harry while Sirius just turned his head. “I think I would have handled my miscarriage a lot different if not for the memories I have of my other children. A part of me was absolutely miserable and in a lot of emotional pain, while the other half was relieved. I was so young, still a child; how could I have raised one myself? I was still in school and I knew a war was coming up. That was no environment for a child. Even still, I _wanted_ her, so much. I love children, and I’m so used to being a parent that I was for a moment so excited to be having a child. And I was so heartbroken when she turned out to be a stillborn, but a part of me was also relived.”

Harry wasn’t crying and didn’t look to be upset; he had turned away from the window to look at them. Sirius wasn’t sure what to say or even how to process what Harry was saying – it just sounded so incredibly depressing and complicated. What do you say to that? ‘I’m sorry that you feel this way, it must have sucked’? ‘I understand the thought process and I’m sorry that you had to go through that’?

“I couldn’t just stop and process what I was feeling when it happened. I hid my whole pregnancy, so I also had to hide the way I was feeling. And then you came to Hogwarts, and Wormtail was there, and everything was just tailor made for me not to deal with any of it. I could ignore it and deal with you guys and pretend that I was a normal 13 year old. Of course, then summer came and I went to the Weasley’s awhile for the Quidditch World Cup – the whole family was there and Mrs. Weasley was in her element. I was more or less forced to deal with what happened, as watching her was reminding me of all the children I’d had. Of course, I dealt with it in time and it didn’t hurt anymore. I wanted to tell Ron or Hermione about it, but they were just kids and it wasn’t right to put this on them. I didn’t have anyone to talk to.” Harry said.

“Well, that’s what we’re here for, kiddo.” Sirius responded. At least this part he knew how to deal with.

“I know; it’s nice to have someone again.” Harry said, smiling.

“Guess you never outgrow parents, huh?” Remus asked, sounding cautious.

“No, you don’t.”

* * *

If someone had told Neville there would be a day his grandmother, his Potions Professor, and Lucius Malfoy would be sitting calmly at his breakfast table drinking tea, he would have assumed that his grandmother had finally lost her sanity and needed a bed next to his parents. And yet, that was what he was getting used to seeing every morning and his grandmother was still perfectly sane. His grandmother and Professor Snape were apparently early risers and by the time they finished breakfast, Lucius Malfoy would come down to have his morning tea. By the time Neville was up and getting ready to go do his morning gardening, the three were all sitting calmly, drinking tea, and reading various reading materials. It was eerie.

The adults mostly ignored Neville entirely, which he was just fine with. He may not be afraid of Professor Snape anymore, but that didn’t mean he particularly liked the man either. Draco was another story entirely. Draco liked Neville’s garden and spent almost as much time in it as Neville did. They didn’t speak much – the longest conversation they’d had this summer involved Draco thanking Neville for his hospitality – but that didn’t make things weird. Neville wasn’t much in the mood for talking and just having Draco around was calming to him. Neville tended to his plants, Draco sat under the oldest tree in the garden and they both just did their own thing. Neville mostly thought about the war and went over the training from Harry. He thought about school and his education. He thought about his future, constantly wondering if he was going to have one or if the war was going to kill him, too. He tried his best not to think about Dean or Seamus, because thinking about them hurt and made him so angry – they were all so young and it just wasn’t fair that they could _die_.

He didn’t even want to imagine what was going through Draco’s head. He could barely handle his own thoughts, let alone think about what was going on in other people’s heads.

* * *

Hermione loved the Weasleys, she really did. They were lovely people and over the years they had been so good to her. They readily accepted her into their family and never made her feel like an outsider. Mr. Weasley wasn’t even put out when Ron brought Hermione home. (Of course, it was more like Ron told his dad that Hermione was coming home with them this summer and Mr. Weasley had just nodded tiredly). She was so close to this family that she felt as if she, too, had lost a brother. She may not have spent her whole childhood with Percy, but she had grown up with him and the Weasleys were her own family now. Percy had been someone who encouraged her thirst for knowledge, had helped make her first study schedule, and he just felt like family. He was her brother and it hurt to know he was dead, never mind the circumstances behind that death.

On top of that hurt was the sting of her parent’s rejection and abandonment. From the time she was thirteen, she had figured that there was a big possibility to her parents not being involved in her adult life, but she never expected that they were trying to get pregnant again. She never expected them to just leave her; she thought it would be more of a process throughout her adult life – social calls dwindling, calls steadily not being returned, then finally they’d become the kind of relatives that only interact through cards on holidays. She thought she’d have more time to adjust to the idea of not having them in her life. She never thought they were so…

She never thought they’d just jump for the chance to replace her with a new baby, as though the only purpose for them trying for another child would be to replace the old model.

“Hey, you busy?” Ron asked from her door, breaking her of her increasingly dark thoughts.

“No, how are you?” She asked as he sat down on the ground next to her school trunk.

“Better than Mum, that’s for sure.” Ron said lightly. She wasn’t sure what that said about how Ron was doing – Molly Weasley was a wreck; being “better” than her didn’t necessarily mean he was well off.

Things between Ron and her were weird, sort of. The weird came from how _not_ weird they were. He was there on the worst day of her life. He invited her into his home and family, a family that was grieving. Bill and Charlie came home, Bill bringing his girlfriend with him, and yet Hermione fit in seamlessly. She wasn’t an outsider in this situation, even though logically she should be. She had seen Ron cry over Percy and he had seen her cry over her parents. Things should be different; they should be awkward around each other. But they weren’t. They talked to each other, did their homework together, helped Ginny with her homework, and helped around the house. They both got to meet Fleur properly and learn how her and Bill met – Bill’s boss had needed someone to translate some French and Gringotts had recommended Fleur, since she was fluent in French and, apparently, Egyptian, and knew English well enough. The rest was history. Things were effortless between them.

“How do you think Harry and Draco are doing?” Ron asked. Hermione shrugged.

“How are you doing?” Ron asked after some time had passed.

“Better than your mum.” Hermione said, grinning grimly. Ron snorted. They both lapsed into silence again.

“Mum and Dad went through what Percy left behind before any of us got here.” Ron said out of the blue suddenly. “The twins got a bunch of Percy’s old notes. Ginny got a few letters, Bill got a journal and his books, Charlie got more notes and a bundle of letters. Dad gathered what was left of his clothes and sold them to some second-hand shops and gave me the money from it. And that’s it – Percy left so little that we only got bits and pieces of things reminding us of him. Memories and old trinkets.” Ron finished, sounding tired.

Hermione’s eyes strayed to her trunk; she knew Ron put the boxes of stuff he grabbed from her room – her _old_ room – and hid them away there. Was it the same as what Percy left behind – ‘memories and old trinkets’? She wondered what Seamus and Dean had left behind. Percy had been young and hadn’t had the time to accumulate lots of things. Seamus and Dean were younger than he was – what did they have? Dean left artwork, she knew that, but what about Seamus? Hermione was ashamed to admit that she didn’t know either of them well enough to even guess what remained.

She took a breath and moved to her kneel before her trunk. What did she have left of her birth family?

The trunk opened silently and a chaotic mess met her eyes. Two shrunken boxes looking no bigger than ring boxes were among a sea of books haphazardly thrown into place. It was obvious that Hermione had not packed this trunk last; it had never been in this much disarray before.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ron asked quietly. She hadn’t realized how much her eyes were burning until she heard his voice. She couldn’t speak past the sudden lump in her throat, so she nodded in answer. She pulled both boxes out and set them near her trunk in between her and Ron. A few seconds after being placed, they both expanded with near simultaneous pops.

The first thing her fingers touched was a bundle of photographs. She pulled off the twine and dumped the batch on the floor. A sea of her own face greeted her – there she was having her first bath, there she was eating cake in a high chair, there she was smiling and holding up a ribbon, there she was in her first set of wizarding robes, there she was outside a Greek library, there she was on the steps of her grandparents house with an ice cream cone, and more and more pictures. It looked like every picture her parents had ever taken of her.

‘ _It probably_ _ **is**_ _every picture ever taken of me. That’s why they put it in my old room. To box it up and… do whatever it was they were going to do with all my things. Lock them away, perhaps? Give them to me? Who knows?’_ She thought, looking at the pictures.

“What are you going to do with these?” Ron asked gently.

“I guess sort them into more organized piles and put them back into my truck, once it’s cleaned out: a pile of photos of just me, a pile of me and relatives, and the rest – if there are any more than just those. I have a few pages of my scrapbook blank; you remember the one Luna and Draco got me for Christmas? I can add some of the photos to that later on.” Hermione said. She reached up and wiped the last remnants of her tears away and set about making piles.

A few seconds later, Ron added his hands and went about making a pile of her with her relatives while Hermione concentrated on pictures of just her. There were no other photographs to be found, confirming that her parents had weeded out all the pictures to do with Hermione and just tossed them away. Two neat piles of pictures were soon topped off and pushed to the side. She reached back into a box.

An old handmade clay dish, made when Hermione was in primary school as a gift for her mother, came up. It was sloppily made, covered in dark green and bright pink paint. She placed it off to the side, fully intending to get rid of it. The next thing her fingers touched was some of her ribbons from spelling bees, academic triathlons, and reading contests. Those were placed on top of her clay dish; she had no need for such things.

“What are you going to do with those?” Ron asked, pointing to her newest pile of things.

“Throw them out. I have no need for ribbons from my muggle school or gifts that my mother doesn’t want.” She replied simply.

She pulled out a huge pile of parchment, bound together with twine like a spiral notebook. She snorted, thumbing through it.

“These are my notes from school. First year through Third. Meticulously recopied and bound together in hopes that one day I would show my parents and they’d be proud of me or impressed with how smart I was. Merlin, I was an insufferable know-it-all, wasn’t I? Clinging to what I thought I knew for even a little bit of praise.” Hermione said, closing the makeshift notebook and placing it beside the clay dish and ribbons.

“You’re not going to keep them? You spent so much time on them though…”

“I have no need or desire to impress people anymore. I’m confident in my abilities and my worth without having someone praise me for my supposed intellect. I have you and Harry to thank for that.” Hermione responded, smiling at Ron. He returned her grin, looking uncertain.

The last thing from the box was a bundle of letters. She recognized them instantly – every letter that she ever wrote to her parents over the years was here, even her Hogwarts acceptance letter. She wanted to put it in the pile to discard, just out of spite, but knew she couldn’t. She placed the whole bundle near the two piles of photographs.

“This box we’re throwing out.” Hermione stated and picked up the pile of ribbons, notes, and hand-made clay dish and dumped them back into the box.

Ron grabbed the second box and brought it closer, opening the lid while he was at it. It was mostly some books, some receipts, and a few ink pots. The receipts were from shops in Hogsmeade, a few restaurants she and her parents had ate at in Wizarding Greece and France; things that ultimately were just reminders of a world her parents didn’t want to acknowledge. The ink pots Hermione would keep, the books were mostly texts she bought when she was younger and honestly didn’t need, or want, anymore.

“The books you can sell back, either to second-hand shops or Flourish and Blotts, depending on the wear and tear.” Ron said. Hermione nodded and stacked her books up on the ground in a neat pile.

“I might as well do that for my old school texts, too.” Hermione said as she reached back into her trunk to retrieve the rest of the hastily thrown in books. Underneath the mess, the rest of her trunk was neat and orderly. All her Gilderoy Lockhart books (of which there were _nine_ ) were put into a “sell” pile immediately. Ron snorted, no doubt remembering how much of a fool Hermione was during their second year.

“I hope none of those have heart doodles or sparkles.” Ron teased her gently. Hermione laughed.

“No, just some lines underlined and questions in the margins.” Hermione responded playfully.

She put her first year texts with her Lockhart books and re-found her old copy of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and found herself scoffing at the presumptuous title. _‘Right, because obviously the Dark Arts rose and fell with Voldemort alone. God, I can’t believe how ignorant I was once… but I suppose I was so young, I just couldn’t help it. What did I know about magic?’_

She found herself shocked into laughter when she discovered her much loved and battered copy of her first _Hogwarts: A History_. She ended up keeping it for purely sentimental reasons. In the end, it was the only book she kept for reasons that were not practical. All her first, second, and third year books would be sold to a second-hand shop – she doubted Flourish and Blotts would like them, considering she had written in a few of them. _‘Then again, there are spells to get rid of marks on books… I guess I’ll just sell these to whichever will pay more.’_ Her fourth year Arithmacy and Ancient Runes texts she was keeping mostly for the amount of formulas in them, but the rest she was going to sell. And that was it. Everything she had left of her past, everything she had left of her parents. Sorted and looked over, and it only took a little over an hour.

“Ron, this – this is it. There’s no more. I thought… this is _me_. It’s not them, it’s supposed to be them. They – I don’t – it wasn’t... It’s like I died, but it’s not. I don’t –” Hermione wasn’t sure what she was trying to say and everything in her head was tangled. She thought of Dean and Seamus and Percy and all those nameless faces she saw in her dreams.

“Hermione.” And Ron was in front of her, hands on her shoulders and leaning towards her and she closed her eyes –

It wasn’t fireworks. There was no feeling of fitting pieces or a click. It was just Ron’s lips on hers; it wasn’t even anything fancy at first, just the pressure. But it was also long nights of staying up with her as she studied, it was learning new languages together, it was falling asleep in the same bed with Harry in between them, it was a multitude of warm hand-made sweaters and chocolate, it was summers spent watching Quidditch, and it was a rush of magic and warmth. It was seething jealousy and worry, it was exasperation and relief, it was… _Ron._ Not perfect, not subtle, but hers.

He pulled away from her, hands slipping from her shoulders to her hands. She didn’t feel any different and he didn’t look any different to her. Her head was less tangled though and she felt herself smiling.

“This is how things work between us, right?” Ron asked, looking to her for sense and answers.

“Of course it is.” She answered, squeezing his hands.

* * *

_He had waited for this moment for years. He had anticipated and planned this moment for years. And now it was upon him and he completely froze._

Voldemort stood in the house, looking over the threads of his magic and carefully undoing them.

_Aife had come with him, of course she had. She was more his mother than his classmate, more his older sister than his friend. Of course she was here. Of course._

His master was quiet, but it mattered not. Soon, he would be whole once again. Soon, he would have Diamond again. Soon.

_When he killed them all, he cried. Once he was done acting like a child, he went to find Aife. She did not judge him or look at him in pity; she just took his hand and tugged him away, talking about school._

The ring was warm in his hand and he could feel the flutter of the shard of himself within it. He could remember having to kill one of his Death Eaters for finding out what this was – what was his name? Regan? It mattered not.

_He remembered Aife giving him this ring. “It belongs to your family and is thus yours. Do what you want with it.”_

He would be whole again. And his Master would give him his Diamond and they would be together again.

_He briefly remembered a moment of horror and sheer panic and thinking that he was such a_ _**fucking moron** _ _and he had to do something and something_ _**cracked** _ _inside him and… and… fog covered the rest and stole the memory from him._

It must not have been important.

* * *

The Dark Mark throbbed on his arm, dark magic swirling angrily just beneath his skin’s surface. Blaise hated it, genuinely felt like ripping his arm off just to get it off, but knew that wasn’t an option. He put the finishing touches on his letter to Albus Dumbledore. He was in a perfect position to pass information on to Dumbledore, if the old man accepted his proposal. Granted, it would actually be his mother passing most of the actual information, but the idea was the same. And both he and his mother wanted Dumbledore and Potter to win, so hopefully Dumbledore would accept his proposal to spy for him.

“Blaise, have you heard from Draco at all recently?” His father’s voice broke him from his thoughts. He tied his letter to his owl and sent him off before turning to answer his father.

“No, but he’s safe with his father and Professor Snape – they’re all in hiding this summer.” He answered. His father was confined to a floating chair; the man’s legs were utterly useless. He used to be a Death Eater, but the fact that he couldn’t move around by himself made it impossible. He stayed in the Zabini cottage, behind the wards, for his own protection. During the years that Voldemort wasn’t around, Lucius Malfoy used to visit him every week without fail. Blaise knew his father missed their Lord Malfoy, but it simply wasn’t safe for them to have tea anymore.

“How are your studies going?” Blaise asked after a moment. His father’s chair turned back towards the doorway of the sitting room they were in. Blaise walked alongside the chair as his father started talking about his studies of the Dark Mark and any possible way to remove it. So far, absolutely nothing worked – every time the Mark was removed, and that took two rituals and quite a load of magic and power to do, the person who had the mark died. Often screaming and in a great deal of pain, for reasons unable to figure out.

He wondered, not for the first time, how Draco was doing.

* * *

Luna floated on her back, the water flowing around her and whispering softly to her. Eleanor sat quietly on the shore, lost in thought. Luna left her to her thoughts, knowing that sometimes it helped to just be alone in your own head.

“Do you miss Ginny?” Eleanor asked out of the blue.

“Yes, but I know she’s needed with her family. And I’ll see her soon. This isn’t nearly as confusing as it was two summers ago.”

The water told her Eleanor had joined her in the pond, shifting around her as it whispered. The sun was on its way down, the bottom just touching the surface. They’d have to get out well before nightfall, as Luna didn’t trust being outside at night, even with the extended wards. She wondered if her father would be joining them for dinner tonight.

“How are you, really?” Luna asked.

“I’m okay. I don’t feel so… fragile anymore. Ginny really knocked some sense into me before we left. Being here also really helps, so, you know… thanks. For inviting me.” Eleanor said.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Luna responded before dunking under the water. The water’s whispering grew louder and she could hear stories and conversations. This was why she loved bodies of water – so much socialization! The Lovegood family had long been a bloodline tied to water – it communicated to them. It often wasn’t a helpful magical trait – after all the most someone got out of it was locating dropped objects from ponds or lakes – but it was an interesting one.

She broke the surface with a gasp of air. The sun was starting to set now, falling faster.

“Time to go inside.” Luna stated.

* * *

Harry wasn’t doing anything productive. Just sitting in front of the mirror in his new room and staring at himself. He saw why so many people say he looked like his mother: it was true. He saw why people used to say he looked like his father, that was true too. He looked like the perfect blend of them – her check bones, her nose, her eyes, his jaw, his ears, and his hair. He was shorter than either of them were at his age, but he’s been shorter at almost 16 years old than this before.

‘ _I’ve been almost 16 many, many times.’_ He thought ruefully. His 16th birthday was officially in a few minutes and for the first time in over a decade he wasn’t in pain or hungry or angry. He wasn’t in a cupboard under the stairs or in a room that was locked from the outside. Down the hall were two people who cared about him, were happy to have him, and loved him.

In some ways it felt like a completely new experience, but in others it felt like he was finally returning to something normal. Somewhere in the house, a clock struck midnight and chimed quietly.

“Happy birthday, Harry.” He whispered to himself, getting up and intending to go to bed. A knock at the door stopped him.

“Happy birthday!” Sirius and Remus exclaimed upon him opening the door for them. Sirius had a small cake in his hands with sparkling candles on the top and Remus had what looked like a bundle of letters and a few presents. Sirius and Remus sat with him for two hours and celebrated his birthday with him. They ate cake, opened letters, and exchanged stories.

It was the last time he ever saw either of them that happy.

* * *

Neville was tired and dirty and hot. He was covered in mud and plant goo, the sun was high and bearing down on him, and he had been up for over twelve hours.

‘ _I am never caring for another Korepellia plant ever again. I fucking hate this plant.’_ He thought angrily as he viciously cut yet another wandering vine from the massive green and black plant. The Korpellia plant was rather useless, little more than a magical weed, but if cared for correctly it would grow berries – they were a strange mixture between blackberries and strawberries. And they tasted marvelous.

“Here.” Draco suddenly appeared, with a glass of wonderful, delicious water that almost made Neville propose right there on the spot. Luckily, he restrained himself and just took the offered water.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at a plant with such contempt before.” Draco commented. Neville snorted.

“I hate Korepellias. They’re evil, pure evil.” Neville said, reluctantly handing the empty glass back to the other boy. Draco looked amused.

“I can see that. Our O.W.L. results came today. Well, more like your grandmother and Severus went to the Ministry to get them, but whatever. Here, have a break and read yours.” Draco said holding out a piece of rolled up parchment like it was nothing. Neville took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and unrolled the parchment.

_Dear Mr. Longbottom,_

_The following are your Ordinary Wizarding Level scores. After which are the classes you can hope to take come September 1_ _st_ _. Have a safe rest of the holiday; please be sure to owl Hogwarts with the selection of courses you wish to take the upcoming year._

‘Have a safe rest of the holiday’ was new. Normally, O.W.L. results simply said ‘have an enjoyable rest of the holiday’, at least that’s how his mother and father’s O.W.L. results letters went.

And following the brief paragraph were his scores:

**_ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS_ **

_Pass Grades: Fail Grades:_

_Outstanding (O) Poor (P)_

_Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)_

_Acceptable (A) Troll (T)_

**_Neville Frank Longbottom has achieved_ :**

_Astronomy A_

_Arithmancy A_

_Care of Magical Creatures E_

_Charms E_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts E_

_Divination T_

_Herbology O_

_History of Magic P_

_Potions A_

_Transfiguration E_

_Based on your results, the classes you may continue are as follows: Astronomy (6_ _th_ _year), Care of Magical Creatures (6_ _th_ _year), Charms (6_ _th_ _year), Defense Against the Dark Arts (6_ _th_ _year), Herbology (6_ _th_ _year), and Transfiguration (6_ _th_ _year). Classes you may retake, based on your results: Potions (5_ _th_ _year), Arithmancy (5_ _th_ _year), Divination (4_ _th_ _year due to your score of T as opposed to a score of D or P), and History of Magic (5_ _th_ _year)._

Neville was actually rather shocked by his results – he knew that being trained by Harry and worked to exhaustion on more than one occasion actually did help all his scores. He was positive that without Harry he would have gotten worse than an A on his Arithmancy and Potions exams, never mind how much the training improved his understanding of Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration. However, no matter how much knowledge he got from listening to Harry and Draco, he was destined to fail History of Magic – he just didn’t have it in him to memorize dates and names. He knew, vaguely, the order of things that happened throughout history and that was good enough for him.

“I got eight OWLS, one of which is an O.” Neville said, still staring at the letter.

“Here, trade?” He and Draco traded results.

**_ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS_ **

_Pass Grades: Fail Grades:_

_Outstanding (O) Poor (P)_

_Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)_

_Acceptable (A) Troll (T)_

**_Draco Lucius Malfoy has achieved_ :**

_Ancient Runes O_

_Astronomy O_

_Arithmancy P_

_Care of Magical Creatures A_

_Charms O_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts O_

_Herbology A_

_History of Magic O_

_Potions O_

_Transfiguration E_

Overall, both of them had done rather well – Draco only got one more OWL than he did, even if he had more O’s than Neville. But that was to be expected, just like him beating Draco in Herbology and Arithmacy was expected. Draco was so bad when it came to Arithmacy it was actually hilarious; the whole subject just confused him and he had little patience for it. And Neville had a sneaking suspicion that Draco may have been paying more attention that he thought whenever he and Luna started talking plants – it was the only way the Malfoy Heir could have possibly passed Herbology.

“Shut up.” Draco muttered, no doubt seeing the smug look Neville could feel on his face. Neville laughed, turning back to the damn Korepellia plant. He wished he could see Hermione’s reaction at her O.W.L results; she’d probably be frantic.

* * *

Fred sat at the kitchen table, looking over the latest plans he and George had come up with. Professor Dumbledore had asked them if they could make anything that would be of use for the Order and the two brothers had jumped at a chance to invent something with vigor. The plans he was looking over were plans to allow for mass _apparition of muggles. Apparition circles weren’t new things, they were actually really old and had been used once upon a time to transport armies from place to place chucks at a time. But, no one had ever made an apparition circle for the purpose of transporting muggles._

_It made sense, apparition with muggle passengers was tricky and dangerous – it was possible, but the chances of getting_ splinched rose. With Death Eaters attacking muggles and wizards alike, it would make things easier if the Order had a few other devices that could be used to get the muggles to safety, not just a portkey.

‘ _And making portkeys without authorization is illegal, technically. Having a device that works as an apparition circle, but for muggles, would be easier to work with.’_

Fred and George understood why something like this would be needed. It was just a matter of figuring out how to do it without killing all the muggles in the process. The last attempt to do anything like this was in 1498 and while the circle worked, all the muggles arrived in pieces. Needless to say, Fred and George were being extra careful with how they went about this project of theirs, since it could end so catastrophically bad.

Fred was brought out of his examination of the very important plans by the sound of the fireplace in the other room roaring to life and spitting someone out. And within seconds, Albus Dumbledore was in the doorway.

“I have young Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger’s O.W.L. Results. Could you go get them?” He asked, getting right to the point. Fred nodded before getting up to go get them – with the new wards apparition was only possible if you were leaving the Burrow. The two were in the room Hermione and Ginny were sharing, Ginny nowhere to be found.

“Your O.W.L results are here.” Fred said. Hermione was out the door before he was fully finished with his sentence and Ron followed at a calmer rate.

“Think you did well?” Fred asked more of to just have something to say. Ron shrugged from next to him and Fred shut up. It seemed so hard to talk to Ron now-a-days – if he wasn’t with Harry or Hermione, if he was just by himself, he tended towards silence. And it was odd trying to start a conversation; what would they talk about? Quidditch? Fred loved Ron, he was his little brother, but the simple fact was that they didn’t have much in common – the longest conversations they had now had to do with the war.

‘ _After the war, I’ll know what to say and how to say it. We’ll find things to talk about, like before Voldemort rose and Harry became more… well,_ _ **Harry**_ _. After the war, things will be easier.’_ Fred thought, watching from the doorway as Professor Dumbledore handed letters to Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked caught between nervous excitement and bewilderment while Ron looked tired and amused by Hermione.

“I got eleven O.W.Ls! Five of which were Outstandings!” Hermione squealed, flinging her arms around Ron, who caught her around the waist in a hug.

“That’s great. I got eight, myself, one Outstanding.” Ron said in response. Hermione pulled away, looking back to her results with a more critical eye.

“Oh dear… I got an A in Divination. How in the… I just took it as a joke, expecting to get a P or something…”Hermione said dazedly.

“Well, it would appear then that you do actually have some talent in that field. That’s interesting isn’t it?” Professor Dumbledore said, sounding cheery. Hermione nodded dumbly while Ron looked bemused – there was obviously a story here Fred did not know. Ron grabbed Hermione’s results from her, looking over them.

“You got an A in History of Magic, same as me. Now that’s just strange, how in the world did that happen?” Ron asked. Hermione looked sheepish as she answered.

“I guess it’s taking a bit longer than I thought to remember just how separate Wizarding Britain is from Muggle Britain. I remember a lot of questions seemed to be obvious to me that I didn’t stop to think about the answer – I probably got those wrong because I gave what happened in the muggle world and not the magical one. Thus, the Acceptable.” Hermione said, shrugging.

Fred wondered when she had mellowed out and how he had missed that fact. Professor Dumbledore walked out, signaling Fred to follow.

“Is your brother home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, no need to call me ‘sir’, young Mr. Weasley. You’re not a student of mine anymore, neither of you. You might as well call me Albus or Dumbledore, whichever you’re more comfortable with.” Albus said, twinkle in his eye and grin on his lips. Fred nodded dumbly. “I need your assistance, if you please.” Professor Dumbledore continued.

“I’ll go get George.” Fred said, turning to go get his brother.

* * *

_A tiara glinting in the sunlight. Soft and fragile and strong and bright._

_A city with no one in it, birds singing, the world turning, but no one walking the streets. Or sitting in the houses. Just lines and lines of nothing and steel and concrete._

_Hogwarts stood tall and imposing, closed and dark. Gates bound shut and no light shown from it. It looked cold, alone, and above all else, dead. His chest ached and he felt like crying and screaming. This was wrong, this was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrong._

_A crumbling and cracked stone archway stood alone. There were no walls around it and no roof; it was exposed and the tattered black curtain swayed in the wind as clouds rolled by. Whispers and singing and bells sounded and it was beautiful, beautiful, twisted and wrong and there was something so, so wrong and right and wonderful and dreadful about it._

Harry woke with a gasp. Sometimes, he really wished his visions would come at intervals or at least normally. It was aggravating going months at a time with nothing and then suddenly getting bombarded with visions in his sleep.

Seeing Hogwarts like that… the wartime wards were obviously up, the whole thing shut up. But for it to be shut up like that must mean there were no students inside. It was part of the wards – if the students were inside, the lights would be on at least.

Was it a vision of abandonment? Would the war get so bad that he shut Hogwarts up, refusing to allow Voldemort to destroy it? And if that's what it was showing him, how the hell did he get Albus to go along with it? Do they _lose_? If Death Eaters got into the school and killed all the students… Hogwarts could shut itself up, he knew it would. No one would be able to get in it if that happened; the last thousand years have made the wards around Hogwarts somewhat sentient and she was nothing if not protective of the children in her halls. If the wards were breached – and with students inside it was a hell of a lot easier to have them breached – and students killed or tortured… Hogwarts would close itself. He knew she would.

Or was it a metaphor? Sometimes his visions weren’t literal, like the one he had about Tonks’ loyalties. If that was the case, it could mean a thousand different things.

And that archway, he knew exactly what that was: the Veil that the Ministry of Magic in London was built around. Sometime before King Arthur died, that thing had appeared. Harry had been… indisposed at the time that it had appeared, so even he was just working off of reports and second-hand information. There hadn’t been much information on it – just that if you touched it the thing _ate_ you. Of course, that was before they put the curtain over it, back when it was just an archway – it was easier to accidentally bump into it or back into it and if you did that… you were gone. He hadn’t seen it with his current set of eyes, but he wondered what it would look like. Would it show more of a Dark Arts taint or a Magicks of Heaven taint? He was able to see it perfectly fine in his vision…

‘ _That’s not quite right, there was something off about it in my vision – it looked distorted sometimes… mostly when I was looking at it straight on. Is that how it would look to me now or was it just part of the vision?’_ Harry wondered, fingers plucking at his bed sheets. So many unknowns.

“Hey, time to get up, breakfast is just about ready.” Remus poked his head into Harry’s room after knocking. Harry blinked before nodding.

“You’re going to be one of the first students on the express; Sirius and I are going to be part of the team of Order members and Aurors to watch it. We’ll meet you at Hogwarts, okay?” Remus said, hurrying off to most likely make one last chance to ensure he and Sirius had back all their teaching supplies

Apparently, since Remus took over for Umbridge halfway through the year, he could teach Defense again this year. And since Sirius was also going to be there, that meant that technically there were two Defense instructors this year – it might be enough to contend with the curse on the position.

Time would tell.


	16. Chapter 16

The family clock showed where all her children were; the spell to make it had been in the Prewett family for generations. When her brothers had died, she remembered her mother’s clock was covered with a sheet. Her mother couldn’t look at it after that and Molly never asked her what it showed. She used to wonder where her brother’s hands pointed to.

Now she doesn’t have to wonder.

Percy’s hand points nowhere. It has no pointer anymore and instead of silver it is black now. It mocks her, sticking out and screaming for everybody to see that she is a horrible mother. She hates herself for not being able to see past Percy’s hand, she knows her six other children's hands are pointed elsewhere but none of them are _black_.

“Mum, the floo is open.” Bill’s voice pulled her away from the horrible timepiece.

“The floo, dear? Are we going somewhere?” Molly asked, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Bill smiled at her but something about it seemed strained.

“Yeah, you agreed to come back with me to Egypt, remember? Fleur and I would love to have you.” Bill said, wrapping an arm around her to pull her to the fireplace.

It was getting harder to concentrate and remember things; Percy seemed to dominate her mind. She hated it, but what was she to do? Forget her son? He was so young…

‘ _And whose fault is it that he’ll never be old?’_ A voice whispered to her, sounding remarkably like her mother.

The floo spit her out and she could see an endless blue sky and a sea of sand. She remembered coming here to visit a few years ago, before the war restarted, when Percy was just made Head Boy…

‘ _Fred and George gave him such a hard time, maybe I should have scolded them more often, got them to lay off their big brother._ ’ She mused, still remembering happier times.

“Mum?” Bill again. She sighed and turned to face him. He smiled at her, curling an arm around her shoulders to lead her away.

“I’m living with Fleur now. I managed to buy a nice place near enough to the site and I can walk to work on good days. It’s through the market and tucked away. Doesn’t look like much on the outside, but it’s got five rooms, each with their own bathroom – the plumbing for _that_ was fun, let me tell you – a kitchen, and even a little sitting nook. All open concept, you’ll see what I mean when we get there. Between Fleur and I we got a nice balance in the décor – it’s a blend of contemporary and traditional. It’s brilliant, you’ll see.” Bill talked eagerly and Molly lost the train of conversation as she remembered how interested Percy was in Bill’s work and the site. He spent a lot of time with various books and listening to Bill’s co-workers and was always very interested in the spell work and knowledge to be found here.

Molly jumped when a door closed behind her. She looked around and realized she was indoors.

‘ _Is this what my life is going to be like now? Going through the motions as if in a fog while memories and thoughts of Percy suffocate me?’_ She thought with a detached sort of horror. She had no answers.

* * *

There were only two first years to be sorted. Letters to muggle-borns hadn’t gone out that year, due to the war. Draco was already sitting and other students were still trickling into the Hall as Professor McGonagall brought in the sorting hat. She didn’t call out their names but it was obvious who they were – Christina and Tessa Pyrites, the last remaining members of their family who were just made wards of the Ministry a few weeks prior, and part of an older family who made a name for themselves in both the muggle and wizarding world for their inventive architecture.

The two girls were the same height. One had short black hair that was swept out of her eyes, while her sister had long, curly black hair. The short haired one made it into Slytherin while her sister went into Ravenclaw. No one clapped and by the time the two girls were seated at their respective tables, the last few students had trickled in. Most children of Death Eaters had been pulled out, most likely the ones 15 and up were marked, and many other parents had pulled their children out because they were fleeing the country. (He says “most” just because the majority of them were pulled out doesn’t mean they all were. He knows Blaise has the Dark Mark and is sitting next to him, so who knows if any of the others are marked? Better to be safe then sorry.) There were fifty-seven students in Hogwarts this year by Draco’s count.

He wasn’t sure if there had ever been a lower amount of students in Hogwarts’ history. Perhaps when it was getting off its feet (he’d have to ask Harry to be sure of that), but even then the reason for the low turn-out would be different. It was apparent that Slytherin was the only house with at least one student per year.

“So, how was your summer?” Helena Flynn asked, breaking Draco out of his thoughts. She was a fellow sixth year who came from a neutral family.

“Boring. Yours?” Draco asked more to be polite than anything. Flynn hadn’t ever spoken more than three words to him their whole Hogwarts career and he didn’t see a reason to change that now.

“My family couldn’t get out of the country. None of our relatives would take us in.” She said bluntly. Draco paused in eating for a second to look her over. She sat calmly across from him but her hand, which was clutched around a fork, was trembling just a bit.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. She nodded and he went back to eating. He looked around the hall and wondered how many of them have similar stories, how many couldn’t leave due to money problems, or how many have been sentenced to stay because their parents were willing to die for a cause.

“Don’t think about it.” Blaise murmured from next to him. Draco wanted to obey his long time friend, but knew he couldn’t.

The Headmaster eventually stood up and what little chatter there was in the Hall quieted.

“Children, while normally I would welcome you to a new school year, I feel that I would lying if I said I was happy that any of you were stuck in the situation we all find ourselves in. Dangerous times are upon us; there is a war going on. I would like to say that when the school year is up you will have families to go home to and that everything will be okay. I cannot. I will say that while you are within these walls, you shall be safe. Even now, people are doing everything they can to protect you and safeguard our future, your future. Hard times are upon us, dangerous times. It is now more than ever a time that we should stand as one. In an effort to protect you, I have suspended all Hogsmeade visits and Quidditch has been canceled. I urge you all not to leave the castle, especially not after sundown. You are protected within the walls, but outside of them I cannot keep you safe. And always remember: Together, you are strong.” Headmaster Dumbledore finished, looking out over the Hall.

* * *

Blaise watched as Draco and Potter talked quietly. Potter had a bracelet on his wrist that glittered just barely when light from the windows hit it. Blaise hadn’t had a chance to get a really good look at it, but he knew what it was. It was probably gorgeous; after all, Draco had good taste.

He sat down near Potter. The two stopped talking to look at him briefly and Draco arched an eyebrow at him.

“Figured if you were going to be obvious, I might as well sit here. Try to do some damage control.” Blaise said quietly. Draco made a noncommittal noise and Potter stared at Blaise for a long time, long enough that Blaise was starting to get uncomfortable, before looking back at Draco.

‘ _Right, I forgot that Potter is… odd, sometimes.’_ Blaise thought.

“Harry, this is Blaise Zabini. Blaise, this is Harry Potter.” Draco murmured. Potter smiled at Blaise, but it didn’t look particularly friendly. More like the smile of a porcelain doll, complete with a strange disconnect between the smile and the empty eyes. Blaise nodded to him, before looking towards the front of the classroom.

‘ _What in the world does Draco see in him? I mean, he’s gorgeous but damn is he creepy.’_

Just then, Sirius Black descended from a set of stairs that lead to an office holding his wand and smiling. He looked much healthier than he had in any of the recent pictures of him and was dressed smartly.

“Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hello and well met and all that.” He said. What little talking there was quieted down and people could be heard sitting down. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger took seats in front of Potter and Draco, after shooting him odd looks – not quite suspicion but also not merely acknowledgment.

“In case you didn’t notice, this class is for all of the current sixth years from all houses. Seeing as we have so few of you, most of your classes will take place with all of you present. No need to have only two houses to a class when the current total of students is only about sixty, give or take a few.” Professor Black continued.

“Now, given the past few teachers you lot have had over the years, I’m going to have a lot of work to do to get you all prepared for the real world. As much as it sucks, we’re at war and you need to be prepared for the reality of that. Last year there was a catastrophic attack on Hogsmeade and it seemed as if ole snake-face was attacking everyone left, right, and center. Just because he’s taken a bit of a break doesn’t mean that things aren’t still dangerous. Constant vigilance and all that.” Professor Black paused here, looking over them all.

“You may have noticed that this year there was no book you needed to purchase for this class. This is because I have decided, and Professor Dumbledore has agreed, that the best way to teach all of you would be a hands-on approach. So, this class will consist of mock duels of all types – one on one, groups against groups, and any other combination I can think of. I will also teach you new spells to incorporate as term goes on, but most likely the one who will do that will be Professor Lupin, as he is back with us this year as well. One on one teaching is more his style, I’d rather just throw you in the deep end and call it good.

“Seeing as there are fifteen of you in this class, I want you all to make three groups of five. These groups will be the groups you stay in for the remainder of the year, so choose wisely. You have five minutes.”

Granger and Weasley turned around and immediately said they wanted to be part of Potter’s team.

“I’m with you.” Draco said to Potter, who nodded absentmindedly. Longbottom came over and Potter smiled at him, waving him to sit next to Weasley. Blaise stood to see who looked like they could use an extra person when Weasley spoke up.

“Hold up, this isn’t all that challenging. I think I’m going to go join someone else, so I can have more opportunities to go against you guys, it’ll be better that way. Zabini can join your group.” And with that he walked over to MacMillan and Bones, who greeted him with smiles.

“That alright with you, Blaise?” Draco asked. Blaise nodded, somewhat shocked at the way things turned out. Granger tossed him a polite grin while Longbottom just gave him a nod.

He sat back down and saw Potter smile in his direction out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright, all of you look like you’re done. Make sure to separate yourselves and remember who you’re grouped with – you’ll sit together from now on. I want all of you to spend the rest of the class getting to know each other and such. Make friends or at least civil acquaintances.” And with that, Professor Black pulled up a chair and got out a book to read.

* * *

Eleanor, Luna, and Ginny were sitting around a table in the library when Neville found them. Luna had what looked like an Arithmancy textbook open in front of her, but was paying more attention to Ginny, who was hunched over her own book with a scowl on her face. Eleanor’s chin was resting on a book, looking thoroughly bored.

“Studying?” He asked with amusement. Eleanor snorted while Ginny grunted, waving her hand at an empty chair in welcome.

“Have you guys had Defense yet?” He asked while pulling books out of his bag.

“Not yet, we have it later today. From what we’ve heard though it’s going to be different – some people have said that Sirius, sorry, _Professor Black_ is crazy while others have declared him the best teacher we’ve ever had. Ron already declined to tell us what the big deal is, said it would be better to have it be a surprise. Or something.” Ginny responded, writing on a nearby piece of parchment.

Luna turned her book sideways and something… _rippled_ across the pages.

“What in the world?” Neville muttered, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Oh, did you see the bookworm? It helps me with my Arithmancy and glows in the dark!” Luna said happily. Neville nodded in response, wondering if what he saw was really a bookworm or something else entirely – he’s never been really sure of how much to believe that comes out of Luna’s mouth.

“How in the world does a creature that eats words _help_ you study?” Eleanor asked skeptically.

“Well, they don’t eat numbers, obviously. I said it helps me with Arithmancy, not studying in general.” Luna responded, turning her attention back to her book. Eleanor gave Neville an incredulous look.

“Alright, my transfiguration homework can go die in a hole. Seriously, I cannot make this essay any longer and I’m still short. I give up.” Ginny said, slamming her book closed. “So, Neville, anything you want in particular or are you just here to spend time with your favorite girls?” Ginny sounded much happier as she changed the subject.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Neville laughed. In a lot of ways, these three were his favorite girls – he wasn’t interested in them, but they were his friends. He liked Luna’s wit, Ginny’s passion, and Eleanor’s sense of humor. These three were also normal, in comparison to people like Harry, who seemed otherworldly at best or Hermione and Ron who seemed more mature then he was used to. Draco, oddly, was becoming a good friend, but there were times when they didn’t seem to have anything in common. He really missed these three this summer.

“So… I’ve never gotten a straight answer out of you – do you like girls or boys or what? Because everyone knows Ginny and Luna’s types and you three know my type, so that leaves us in the dark about you. Tell us your secrets!” Eleanor joked, leaning forward with chin in hand.

“I – I – Wait, what?” Neville stuttered, face heating up. Eleanor laughed at his embarrassment while Ginny snickered.

“C’mon, we’re all friends – unless you’re crushing on one of us?” Ginny teased. Neville laughed at that suggestion.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. There’s so much going on right now, I try not to think about it. I have no idea how you two do it – I can barely handle myself right now, I can’t imagine how it would be if I was dating.” Neville said to Luna and Ginny.

“It's easy for us, I suppose. We were together before all this happened.” Ginny said, smiling at Luna.

“Crumble-horned Snorlocks tend to group together easily and I’ve always had an affinity for them.” Luna said shrugging.

“So, you’re confused or what?” Eleanor turned the topic back to Neville, who shrugged before answering.

“Not so much confused as… I don’t know, it just hasn’t come up? Before the war, I was concentrating more on not failing out of school and my plants and I always just thought I’d do all that stuff once I got out of school but now… it’s just never come up.” Neville finished awkwardly.

“Huh, I guess that makes sense.” Eleanor said speculatively.

“Maybe you’re like a sea-ell; they mate only when another sea-ell flashes the right lights at them but before that they never feel the urge towards it.” Luna said, leaning back in her chair. He wondered vaguely if sea-ell’s were real – they sounded plausible…

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Neville responded, honestly not all that concerned.

“But wait, you’ve said Harry is attractive.” Ginny said, sounding bewildered. Neville snorted.

“Yeah, because I have eyes. He’s gorgeous, but I don’t want to date him; sometimes I think Draco is crazy. Harry, while lovely and wonderful, is also seriously creepy sometimes and I’ve noticed his morals are all over the place. Yeah, no thank you; I’ll keep him as a great friend, thanks.” He said firmly.

“But, doesn’t that imply you have a type?” Eleanor asked. Neville shrugged.

“Huh, guess it’s not that big a deal. You going to tell us what Siri – _Professor Black’s_ – class is like or are you going to leave us in the dark like Ron?” Ginny asked, changing the topic with ease.

“Nah, I don’t want to ruin the fun. It’s different, that’s for sure. We might not need Harry to teach us with Professor Black here, but I’m personally going to continue training with Harry in my free time.” Neville said.

“Oh, continuing with Harry’s lessons is pretty much on everyone’s agenda I think. Just because we have a competent teacher doesn’t mean we don’t want to continue learning advanced stuff from a master.” Eleanor said, before shuddering and continuing with: “Just means we’re going to go back to having aches and pains and exhaustion and messed up sleep schedules.”

* * *

Her bedroom here was small. One dresser, one double bed, one pillow upon that bed. She liked it, sometimes.

‘ _This is my room and not a shared one. It will suffocate me in how alone I am but it is better than being with him. I can’t.’_

She loved him, she did. He killed one of her babies and she hated him. She hated herself for loving him sometimes when she wanted it to be never. She hated herself for being a failure as a mother – one of her children turned into a monster and yet she mourned for the monster and despaired for the remaining six. They would all die in this war, she knew. She knew.

“Mum?” One of her son’s hesitant voices made her turn towards the door. Short, smooth hair framed a face she knew well – Charlie’s eyebrows were like Percy’s, along with his full mouth, and cute little nose.

She wondered when he would die. She hoped it was quick, when it came.

“Mum, I wanted to… I need to talk to you. May I come in?” Charlie asked. She beckoned him into her room wanting nothing more than to protect him from the world. Maybe she could take her children back, spare them from death?

Charlie took one of her hands in his as he sat next to her. How strange to think that once his whole hand could fit around one of her fingers.

“Mum, I’m going back to Romania. Bill will… he’ll be here. But I… I need to go back, we’re doing extraordinary things and I’m needed there. I- I love you, but I also love my job. I can’t stay here, I can’t, Mum. I need to go, I can’t stay. I can’t.” Charlie sounded so close to tears, he sounded so upset. Was he this upset when he heard about Percy?

Charlie always was very emotional, like Percy. Bill and Ron hide upset beneath anger and, lately, ice but Charlie and Percy were always the criers. Fred and George never seemed to get upset, almost like there wasn’t enough time in life to bother with tears. Ginny was a strange middle ground – she got upset and lashed out with words and tears together.

“Mum, are you listening? I need to go.” Charlie said, tears rolling down his face and looking at her with a strange expression. She’d never seen an expression like that on him before…

“Go?” She asked, not sure if she was following the conversation correctly. Did he know this war would kill him and was fleeing? She hoped so.

“Yeah, I need to go. I can’t… I love you, but I can’t do this. I’m not like Bill, I’m not strong like he is… I can’t do this. I need to go.” Charlie whispered. He was in pain, so much pain. She needed to do something for him.

“Then you go, baby. You do what you can and what you need.” She said to him, leaning on his shoulder. If only Percy had come to her with his pain instead of letting it turn him into a monster…

Charlie hugged her, clutching desperately at her, crying into her hair. He whispered how much he loved her over and over.

She wondered if Percy ever really loved her or if she was just some foolish woman who birthed him in his eyes.

* * *

Granger is a force of nature. Blaise has always known that she was an intellect, but he had always thought she was like Draco – that she liked to learn things but also liked to relax and disliked anything too hard for her. Boy was he wrong. She was nothing like Draco, who tended to get frustrated with things easily and drop them when he wasn’t getting the hang of it. Things that Granger couldn’t do or understand weren't dropped but rather attacked until they were forced into submission. It was exhausting.

Currently, she was glaring at him from across the room, hair moss-covered from a hex that he shot at her seconds ago, while he was standing unharmed and unchanged.

“How did you do that?! When I tried that spell, it didn’t work! You should be vomiting blue and green worms right now! Why did the spell work for you and not me?!” She hissed at him, invoking the likeliness to her rather ugly cat, Crook or something. That cat was rather infamous in Hogwarts for being unfriendly and getting into things he shouldn’t – he only behaved around her, if rumors were to be believed.

“I just did.” He responded, a touch smug that he got the hang of it so quickly while she didn’t.

“That doesn’t make any sense! Draco just taught us this spell – we both should have failed!” She snarled.

He arched an eyebrow at her flawed logic as she huffed, looking a little sheepish.

“Alright, so that was a little childish to say. Sorry. How did you do that? Tell me in detail.” She demanded.

“I visualized your spell deflecting, spoke the spell, while sharply drawing my wand down from my eyes, before slashing leftwards.” He deadpanned, knowing his answer wasn’t in any way helpful.

“That’s exactly what I did and it didn’t work for me. Your answer didn’t help me learn anything at all! What did your magic feel like when you did the spell? Did any part of you warm or get cooler? Did –”

“I don’t know. I just did it – it happened quickly and I didn’t feel anything and didn’t analyze any of it.” He cut her off before she really got going.

“Cast at me again, maybe I’ll get it this time.”

The spell they were working on was a shield spell, but it was designed to shatter upon impact, taking the damage and force of whatever was thrown at the person it was protecting. It was designed to be something a person could cast quickly and without much energy to hold it, unlike most other spells which drained the caster, and meant for ambushes; not sieges or long, drawn out battles.

He shot off the disarming spell at her and saw her do the right wand movements and heard her say the spell – “ _aspido_ ” – perfectly. Her wand shot out of her hand and landed at his feet.

“Dammit.” She spat, looking frazzled. Blaise sighed, picking up her wand and throwing it back to her.

“You’re not visualizing the spell deflecting.” Draco said from behind Blaise.

“I think I’d know what I was or was not visualizing better than you, thank you very much!” Granger snapped.

“No, you’re just pouring magic into your wand and expecting it to protect you. You have to visualize the magic deflecting _because of your magic_ not because of the spell. All the spell does is give that idea – the idea you aren’t indulging in – life.” Draco lectured, sounding remarkably like his father it was almost eerie.

“I’m telling you, I’m visualizing!” She snarled as she stood back up and shot a spell at Blaise – he didn’t recognize it, but didn’t want to guess at what it did. He deflected it and shot a mild hex back at her. She didn’t even attempt the shield, just dodged it and shot a hex right back at him. He rolled away and heard Draco laughing in the background before he spat a spell in Granger’s direction. She performed the shield spell…

And was thrown into a wall, swirling different shades of blue and hair throwing off green sparks. She popped up and shot something that curved right into his side, throwing him into the air, before letting gravity take him. The impact with the ground hurt, but other than that he didn’t feel hurt. He threw another hex at Granger anyway and this time when she performed the shield spell it did what it was supposed to.

Granger looked goosed briefly before a smile lit her face up. Even with swirling blue skin and tangled hair that was shooting off green sparks, when she smiled like that he could see what it was that Weasley saw in her.

“Good job, both of you.” Draco said, clapping. His tone was sincere but the clapping was probably less than.

* * *

“Why can’t we do this during the daytime?” Neville whined.

“I don’t have any time during the daylight hours.” Harry responded with a grin. “Now, I need you to concentrate. You know you can do this; you just need to be in control of it this time.” Harry continued, folding to sit on the floor in front of him.

“Right.” Neville muttered. During the Battle of Hogsmeade he had created his fire whip but he hadn’t managed it once since then. Thus the reason he was with Harry, feeling like he had failed a class and was retaking it. He didn’t want to be some berserker, only capable of powerful magic when enraged. He didn’t want his magic playing him for a puppet.

He flung fire out in front of himself and willed it to hold, to twist into a weapon that could move freely and around things. He knew that this was a manner of will – there was no spell for this because the fire was already from him, all he needed was to keep control over it in the physical world. The fire sputtered out, _again_.

“Why isn’t this working?” Neville shouted, wanted to tear his hair out.

“Did you feel any different physically during the battle?” Harry asked.

“No. I was full of adrenaline but that’s fairly normal considering the circumstances. Beyond that I felt normal.” Neville answered. “Was I supposed to feel different?”

“Magic is something that exists everywhere; outside and within. It is a tool, a way to manipulate the forces of nature to your will, a way to make your will reality. It is a part of you and you are a part of it; it is more connected to you than your limbs. When you use magic, even if it’s only something small, you feel different – happier, perhaps, or warm. When using more advanced magic, your body reacts to it differently, depending on things like how your magical core allies itself, your bloodline, what magic you’re performing, and other things.” Harry said calmly, staring at Neville while he spoke.

“You’ve said that, I’ve heard it! I just don’t see how that is supposed to help me learn this! What if I can’t do it outside of a battle situation? What if I’m not as strong as you think I am; I’m not like you, Harry, I’m not some super powerful wizard! I’m just a stupid kid and I’m gonna die, just like Seamus and Dean! They’re gonna kill me!” Neville screamed, trying not to cry and throwing his wand down. Harry wrapped him up in a hug instantly and Neville clung to him, crying like a baby into his shoulder, breaking as he always did whenever Harry hugged him.

“One day, you’re going to die, Neville. Everyone is; it’s the ultimate inevitability, the ultimate end. Everything that starts must end, someday. The trick of it is choosing the circumstances in which you die. Will it be in battle? Will it be defending yourself or someone else? Will it be when you’re old and wrinkled, surrounded by your family?” Harry whispered to him, pulling away from Neville to touch their foreheads together. “I don’t think you’re a stupid kid, Neville. You’re young, but that’s not a bad thing. And you have so much potential. If you would just trust yourself you’d see it; it’s right in front of you. I can’t speak for your parents, but if you were my son I’d be so proud of you. I am proud of you, you have no idea.” Harry wiped Neville's tears away and stepped back from him. Neville breathed a few times, clutching at Harry’s praise like a lifeline.

He wondered what his parents would think of him, if they’d be as proud of him as Harry was.

“You aren’t someone who needs a weapon, at least not one that protects your body. What you need is something that protects your choices, your _choice_ of when to surrender to the inevitable and when to not. You need a tool more than a weapon, because you’re not a warrior but something softer than that. Now, try again.” Harry said.

Neville felt more worn then truly upset anymore so he just rolled his shoulders and braced himself for another failure.

‘ _A tool, huh? Something to protect my choices, not my body…’_ Neville thought and flung fire out in front of himself. He willed it to become this weapon, this protection of choices. He felt something warm and sweet flare up inside, as if molten chocolate had been poured into his veins. He thought, for an instant, that he could even taste dark chocolate in the back of his throat.

And the fire twisted into a long, thick whip. He slashed his wand around and the whip followed with a crackle of warmth.

* * *

“Anastasia was a beautiful child, did you know? You resemble her in many ways; your nose, your eyes – the shape not the color – your fire, the love for your family. Especially that. Your older brother betrays your family, abandons all of you, almost kills your father, does kill countless others, and yet you mourn for him still.” The man across from her said before taking a sip of his drink. He had graying hair and not a wrinkle on his face. He smelt of cinnamon and milk and she felt as if she knew him, had met him once.

“You’re Rasputin.” Ginny whispered.

“Yes, indeed I am. I’m dead by now, no doubt, but yet I still need to be here to teach you. Your legacy is one that has been hidden from you till now and I am here to remedy that.” He said.

“What if I don’t want it?” Ginny asked.

“That’s not an option, I’m afraid. You have it, it's your legacy and you’re not allowed to deny it. I can give it to you and not teach you how to use it, but I cannot take it back.” Rasputin said gently.

“Fine.” She said and found they were somewhere else: a stone room with arching windows and no doors.

“This is the training room. When you need a lesson, you will come here. Don’t worry about the how, you’ll know how to get here, I promise. This room will give you everything you need, including me.” Rasputin said, leaning against a walking stick of some sort, wood dark and smooth.

“The first lesson is about finding things. I have taken something from you, something important, something you need, and hidden it. Find it and present it to me.” Rasputin said with a big grin.

“What is it?” Ginny asked.

“Something important.” He responded.

“How long do I have to find it?”

“However long it takes to find it.”

“None of that was helpful information” Ginny said, getting annoyed.

“ _You’ll know what it is immediately, trust me.”_ Rasputin’s words echoed even as she woke up. She sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. Luna, who lay next to her, stirred a little before seemingly going back to sleep.

“Ron’s going to throw a fit and Harry’s never going to let me live this down.” She muttered, looking at Luna and wondering if she should even try sneaking Luna out. “Oh, who cares? Ron will deal.” She muttered again.

“Deal with what?” Luna asked quietly, eyes still closed.

“You here with me. You know how he gets – ‘Oh, my baby sister is doing sex things, she’s just a little girl!’” Ginny mimicked, giving Ron a high pitched voice. Luna giggled.

“We should probably get up, what time is it?” Luna asked. Ginny reached for her wand, she kept it in its holster under her pillow. Both were gone. No wand, no holster.

‘ _You’ll know what it was immediately, trust me.’_

“That arsehole hid my wand!” Ginny exclaimed, shocked more than anything else. After all, Rasputin was dead. How had he managed to get her wand and hide it? Luna tilted her head at Ginny in confusion.

“You remember me telling you about that mark on my chest?” Ginny asked.

“Anastasia’s heir.” Luna stated.

“I dreamed about Rasputin. He said he was going to teach me about my legacy. That he had hidden something important and that I was to find it; turns out the ‘something important’ is my wand.”

“Well, I guess we have to find it then. If you’re supposed to be able to find it and he’s hidden it from beyond the grave it would make the most sense if he hid it somewhere in the castle. It’s what I would do. What are you supposed to do once you find it?” Luna asked.

“Go to the training room that he showed me in my dreams.” Ginny answered, not finding any real fault with Luna’s logic and hoping that her wand was hidden within the castle somewhere and not in, say, Russia.

“That’s rather straightforward. Let’s get up, we can start looking for it today, where did you put my bra?” Luna asked, searching among the sheets for the garment. Ginny plucked it from under the pillows where she had shoved it last night and handed it over.

“I think I tore the buttons off your shirt, you can borrow one of mine.” Ginny said, feeling her cheeks heat up a little. Luna smiled at her and pulled on her skirt before opening the curtains around Ginny’s bed, dispelling the silencing charm around them, and getting out of bed.

Ginny and Amell Volutei were the only fifth year girls in Gryffindor, so they shared the suddenly too big dorm room. Normally, Ginny woke up before Voultei but this morning they had woken up at the same time. And Voultei was looking at Luna with a gob-smacked expression and her ears were turning red at the tips.

“Good morning, Voultei.” Luna said, waving at the other girl. She turned to Ginny’s wardrobe and began looking for a shirt to wear. Ginny sat with a sheet around her waist and in naught but her skin and felt like melting into the floor out of embarrassment.

“Good morning!” Voultei squeaked, looking between the two girls and turning even redder, before grabbing her robes and book bag and running out of the room.

“Oh dear Merlin.” Ginny whispered in mortification, grabbing clothes to change into. Luna just laughed at her, the traitor.

And because the gods enjoy laughing at Ginny’s misery, when she and Luna finally managed to get downstairs not only was a sizable portion of the house (what remained of it, but she tries not to think about how few students there are at Hogwarts, tries to ignore it for the sake of her own sanity) around but so was Ron.

“Why is Luna here and wearing a Gryffindor shirt, one that looks suspiciously like it belongs to you?” Ron demanded, immediately coming to loom in front of them. People turned to look at them and she could already hear the giggles and whispers starting up.

“Well, I couldn’t very well wear mine, it had no more buttons. And I’m here because Ginerva and I have to go to breakfast and classes, which means we had to get out of bed.” Luna says easily and without a trace of embarrassment. Harry started laughing behind Ron; full out, whole body laughter that Ginny was disturbed to say she hadn’t heard in what felt like years.

“Ron, you’re making a scene, leave it alone.” Hermione said irritably.

“You – You – Get to breakfast! And please, at least _pretend_ you’re sleeping in different beds, for me!” Ron pleaded before fleeing, Harry trailing after him laughing still. Hermione snorted before winking at Ginny – ' _Oh Circe, I’m going to die of mortification'_ – and following them out. Luna was radiating amusement from next to her but didn’t comment on anything, just took her hand and led her out of the common room.

When they got to the Great Hall, Ginny sat at the Ravenclaw table, not wanting to deal with her housemates. Breakfast was in full swing and it was a mess of noise and half heard conversations, even with the reduced student count.

“So, where do you think we should look for it first?” Luna asked while cutting open a muffin to put jam in it.

“I guess anywhere – our dorms, classrooms, the library maybe…” Ginny mused, biting into a cinnamon-topped croissant. “After Transfiguration we can try a locating spell, and maybe it’ll be that simple.”

It wasn’t. Professor McGonagall was less than impressed with her missing wand during class and once class was over Luna attempted a locator spell without success. It seemed that something was blocking the spell from finding Ginny’s wand.

“We’ll find it, maybe Harry can help us?” Luna said after. If anyone would be able to find her wand, it would be Harry.

Two nights later she found herself in the training room, the stone floor cold under her bare feet and moonlight streaming in through the windows. Her wand seemed to vibrate in her hand, in plain view. Rasputin was standing before her, a strange expression on his face.

“You did not find your wand.” Rasputin said finally.

“Obviously I did, considering that here I am and here it is in my hand.” Ginny retorts, holding her wand up.

“But you did not find it. It was found, yes, but not by you. Are you really so helpless that you cannot find something so easy on your own?” He asked and she realized that the strange expression on his face was disappointment.

And with a jolt she realized that he was right. When something was too difficult for her to do, she went to Harry. If she couldn’t make a decision, she went to Harry. It was almost second nature to her now, from years of knowing Harry and having him just fix everything for her. She learned it from Ron and Hermione, who did the same thing.

“I can’t help you like this; you aren’t ready.” Rasputin said softly.

“You said I couldn’t refuse it.” Ginny whispered in response.

“Oh, you can’t. And you’re not and I’m not taking it back. You aren’t ready for this, not now; you’re still just a little girl. I made a mistake, so I’ll come back when you are ready.” He vanished out of existence, taking the smell of cinnamon with him. The smell she hadn’t even realized was there but missed when it wasn’t.

“Children should stay out of war games.” His voice whispered to her as she fell into true sleep.

* * *

“Bill, are you well?” Fleur asked quietly, coming into the kitchen.

“Oh, yes, I’m just peachy. One of my brothers died a Death Eater, my other brother has run back to his own home with his tail between his legs, my dad is acting like if he ignores the outside world it will go away, and my mom has had a complete mental breakdown. And that’s just my personal life.” Bill retorted. Fleur looked less than impressed.

“That sorry for yourself speech didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.” Bill muttered, turning back to stove, stirring the vegetable soup. He knew he shouldn’t be taking his anger out on Fleur; none of this was her fault.

“I realize that, but taking it out on me is just going to cause more strain.” Fleur said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against the back of his neck. Her accent, while still noticeable, no longer hindered her actual speech. He figured she had a lot of practice speaking English between work and all the time she spent talking to his father. She was actually the one who discovered Arthur Weasley’s new found phobia of news – bad, good, didn’t matter, he didn’t want to hear it. Mr. Weasley was determined to ignore the world as much as possible.

A timer dinged and Bill waved his wand at the oven, stepping out of the way as it opened and a dish of chicken floated out to the table. He turned everything off and waved the vegetable soup to the table and grabbed the bread to place it to the side. Silverware arranged itself neatly on the table along with dishes and glasses while milk, water, and juice flew out of the refrigerator to settle down, waiting to be poured.

“I’ll go get father.” Fleur announced as she left the room, leaving Bill standing there stupidly. His chest felt warm at the thought of her calling his father her own, as if they were already married. Magic take him, but he loved her.

Fleur and his father were talking about something as they came back into the room, Arthur waving his arms about and Fleur listening avidly. They dished out food and drinks and ate, talking about pointless things – how was Fleur’s day? Did anything interesting happen at Bill’s site today? What was the function of the ball in the ball-point pen? It almost seemed like a normal family dinner, but the absence of his mother was striking for Bill. He heard her silence in everything and felt it with every bite of food he took. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t get the chicken to taste as good as his mother’s – his was always too dry and didn’t have enough of something, a spice no doubt.

He was so angry at Charlie in these moments. Charlie was supposed to be here with them, trying to help their mother. He needed Charlie here, but he had run off with his dragons. _‘Doesn’t he care about her? She’s his mother! She needs him and he just takes off to gallivant with his precious dragons! He even snuck out of the house while I was at work!’_ Bill thought, chewing his food viciously.

Conversation stopped suddenly, seemingly cut like a ribbon, drawing his attention. His mother was standing in front of the table, hair a mess. She looked so small, dwarfed in her nightgown.

“Mum?” Bill asked quietly, almost afraid of spooking her.

“I figured there was no need to make you take my food to me.” She said, pulling a chair back and sitting. A plate and silverware popped into place in front of her. Fleur took his hand under the table, squeezing. He clutched at her, terrified and elated all at once. Was this the recovery he had been praying for?

His father got up and left quietly and his mother didn’t even glance up from her meal.

* * *

Blaise wondered if, in another world, Neville Longbottom would ever be hanging out with him. They had next to nothing in common – Neville was passive while Blaise was more aggressive; Neville liked plants while Blaise wanted nothing to do with them; Neville was helpless with Potions while Blaise was very good at them (had to be when you spent so much time with Draco Malfoy). They had almost nothing in common and yet here they were, sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall during lunch eating and rolling their eyes at Draco.

Draco, who is trying to tell them that he wasn’t crazy, really, and they should totally help Peeves prank their first, real Defense class.

“Draco, you don’t even like pranks, why are you even bothering?” Neville asked exasperated.

“This isn’t about getting into Potter’s pants, is it? Because I don’t know if I’m old enough for this conversation if it is.” Blaise adds, deadpanned. Neville chokes a little next to him and Draco shoots him an unimpressed stare.

“Really, that’s what you’re going with?”

“What, you think I don’t notice when he’s spent the night in your room? You two aren’t even pretending to be subtle, seriously, you’re lucky the castle is practically empty.” Blaise says quietly, wary of people overhearing despite his words.

“We’re not pretending to be subtle because we’re dropping the act. It’s why he’s wearing that bracelet I gave him out in the open.” Draco said, biting into a sandwich.

“Wait, that’s where he goes; he’s spending the night with you?” Neville looks about as red as a tomato, which is equal parts hilarious and pathetic.

“Wow, where is your mind heading off? For all we know they’re just sleeping.” Blaise teases.

“Now I’m thinking about it, why did you say that?” Neville whined. Blaise laughed and Draco rolled his eyes.

“We sleep, mostly.” Draco said dryly.

“No, stop talking!” Neville begged, looking five seconds away from covering his ears.

“So, no more hiding? Really, you’re sure about this?” Blaise asked.

“Yeah, we hid it all last year but this year it's… there’s a war going on outside these walls; but here there is still some peace. We don’t want to hide, not here.” Draco said.

“It’s not safe, we don’t know if everyone here is on the right side.” Blaise said earnestly.

“They’re still here; I think that counts for something.” Neville said, sounding calmer now that the subject had changed.

“Yeah, that they’re spies or informants.” Blaise said bluntly. “Draco, this could end so badly.”

“Or that they’re scared and out of options. Which, honestly, isn’t that great of an option either. But, I get what Blaise is getting at and I agree; this could end so badly for both of you, you could be used to hurt each other. Have you guys really thought this out?” Neville asked, concerned.

“We know, but this is too important to us to hide anymore. We’re tired and I don’t think it’s good for him. He had to hide how he’s felt for me long before we were ever together and I just can’t do it to him anymore. I really appreciate that you two are concerned and you have valid points, believe me I know, but the decision’s been made. We’re not hiding it anymore, we don’t want to.” Draco said. He looked at Blaise, willing him to understand, to accept.

“Fine, you know I have your back.” Blaise said, sighing.

“I do. Thank you.”

* * *

The word looked so innocent, so simple, printed on clean paper.

_Horecrux_.

Albus almost couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been, to overlook something like it. They were rare, but he knew a thing or two about rare, dark things. It explained everything – how Tom had survived, his warped magic and mind, the diary, _Myrtle_. Not to mention, it would be something Tom Riddle would be familiar with, from having been taught by Aife.

‘ _Seems that no matter what appearance Mr. Potter has, he always seems to know things he shouldn’t. Which, given his age, makes more sense. Aife would have mentioned this, probably in passing knowing her, explaining something else to Tom.’_

He remembered Aife Korasaki, little girl from Wales that came to Hogwarts from nowhere. Her last name indicated that she was muggleborn, but she had known this world. Left a little sister in Wales, came to Hogwarts alone. Sorted into Slytherin after only a few moments under the hat and within her first year she had befriended a Malfoy, a Black, and a Prince. Intelligent, polite, and cunning she had inserted herself into a circle of Purebloods from all the houses and demanded respect from her peers. She was never bullied, not after the first disastrous attempts that some older Slytherins had made in her first year.

Her little sister, Diamond, came to Hogwarts the next year but by then he had been paying too much attention to Tom to pay any more attention to Aife and her sister. He knew, from watching Tom, that Aife took Tom under her wing and that Tom and Diamond became closer and closer as they got older. Diamond was the only girl Tom had ever shown an interest in and Albus had worried for her. Tom had carved his circle of Purebloods, almost modeled after Aife’s circle –Aife had Lycian Malfoy, Cedrella Black, Alphard Black, Orin Black, Claus Prince, and Fergus Bones. They were almost like her inner circle, they studied together and were often seen clumped together somehow – he knew that Lycian and Claus were dating throughout their entire Hogwarts career, but Lycian had married Orin in the end, no doubt due to pressure from their parents. He had no idea what happened to Claus Prince after he graduated. Tom’s circle had been comprised of the younger siblings or cousins of Aife’s group – Abraxas Malfoy, Walburga Black,Cygnus Black, and Eileen Prince. Tom’s circle grew to encompass more people as he spent more time at Hogwarts. But Aife only ever added her sister and Aiden Fawcett, the young man she fell in love with and, truthfully, was still in love with as he apparently reincarnated as Draco Malfoy.

Tom’s group held great respect for Aife’s, that much was obvious, but the two groups didn’t ever really mix. Tom was the only one that would sometimes be seen with Aife’s group, never the other way around. Aife’s group became neutral or left the country when Tom became Voldemort; and if they didn’t leave they died. Tom’s group gradually became Death Eaters and, as they say, that was that. Albus never thought to reach out to Aife’s old group, convinced that they weren’t the type to join his cause; he thought them cowards but now he wondered if he should have tried to get them on his side. Would the death toll been so high if he had them?

After all, Harry was training his friends in magic, advanced and old magic, so most likely he had trained that group as well. If he had not been so sure of himself, could he have gotten strong allies from unexpected places?

A knock on the door broke him from his musings of the past and mistakes. He waved the door open and Bill Weasley, clutching something to his chest, rushed in eyes bright and excited.

“I think I got it! I found it, the text from those books Harry gave the Order. The thing that Merlin stole from Ancient Egypt and summoned: I found it!” Bill exclaimed, clearing Albus’ desk of stray papers and books. Albus grabbed the book on Soul Magic he had been reading – the word _Horecrux_ was still mocking him even as he tried to focus on what Bill was saying.

“I thought it was a spell to make a Guide at first, but that’s not all it is. It’s an experimental ritual to make a super Guide, like one of those things on every enhancer you can think of. It calls for summoning two souls – specifically an _akh_ and an _akhet_ – and mutating them further into one entity and then trapping it into the corpse of a vessel. That vessel then becomes the Guide.” Bill said in a rush, Egyptian tumbling out of his mouth as easily as the English.

“Bill, I’m sure this is fascinating, but Ancient Egypt was never one of my subjects that I knew a lot about.” Albus said.

“Oh, sorry, right. So, an Akh is a transfigured male soul, like a ghost only one without an anchor that keeps it here. A ghost is a soul that is kept here by something, magic most likely, which is why the most popular theory that only wizards and witches become ghosts is held. But, the Egyptians had ways of summoning the dead, souls that moved on, so they had specific names for them. An Akh is a male soul that was ripped from the afterlife, with all their memories still attached, which makes them deformed and often times angry and powerful in that anger.

“An Akhet is a female soul, they’re basically the same thing but they have enough of their humanity and memories left that they still cling to human concepts like gender, ripping them from the afterlife takes their memories of that away from them, so they remember only their life and dying, but nothing after. They were used as curses and weapons during times of war because they couldn’t die and followed the orders of the one who summoned them. They could kill and maim and torture, just like a human, but not die.

“It was considered a sin to summon one though; you had to have permission from Ra and Osiris to get away with summoning one. And then you had to undergo a purification ritual afterward, it’s all very ceremonial. If you didn’t have permission, the Pharaoh would get a vision from Ra and know what you had done and send for you, to kill you. It was a crime punishable by death and disgrace – you would lose your name and your family would be cut from you. It was a major deal. But, anyway, this, this right here, I think this is what Merlin stole. It makes the most sense with that Harry was saying about the thing that he summoned, trying to make a Guide and it got away from him.” Bill explained in a rush.

“And how can we be sure this is what it was that he stole? Not to doubt you, child, but we have to be sure.” Albus said, a headache building from all the new information.

“Because I didn’t find this in a tomb on the site; it was given to me by a Professor, he wanted me to translate it. I’m one of a few handfuls of people who can translate Ancient Egyptian for a reasonable fee and you know where he got this? Rome. Specifically, from a museum that loaned it to him for his thesis; that museum? The only one on Earth that lays claim to Merlin’s estate. This is it, Albus, this is what he stole. He knew he couldn’t let it out of the wards around his estate, Egypt would find it, so he kept it there and probably lead people on a wild goose chase trying to find where he had hidden it. But it was just in his house, waiting. No one knew what it was, he had tons of manuscripts and other things littered with Egyptian writing – after all, Rome and Egypt were allies then. The Romans used to call these things man-made demons! This is it, Albus, this is it; we found it.” Bill said, sounding excited and feverish.

“Can we be sure of that? Don’t you think someone would have found it, if it had been at his estate all these years? Many of Mr. Potter's previous incarnations would have hunted everywhere looking for that exact thing. ” Albus said, wanting to believe but needing to be one hundred percent sure.

“Would they have? Think about it, he probably knew exactly what Merlin stole. Or had a solid idea of what it could be. Harry would have been looking for a reversal or a way to kill the thing, not this. Besides, you’ve read those books he’s given us, haven’t you? Lady Saliar wasn’t exactly all together there at the end, it was clear she was loosing her grip on sanity. And, you were there when he was talking about it, reliving it, he didn’t seem all together. I don’t blame him, but… Albus, Rome fell over a thousand years ago and by Harry’s own admission he’s been cycling through lifetimes ever since. He’s been looking for a way to kill it, but so far hasn’t been successful. I think it’s because he never went looking for the original thing. Why would he need to if he knew what it was in the first place, right?” Bill said.

The theory was sound. For all that Mr. Potter might be a very, very old soul trapped, for now, in a teenager’s body that didn’t make him some omnipresent being.

“You think he’s been over looking things because of assumptions or even pride?” Albus asked.

“No. I think he’s been over looking things because of pain and memories and fear. I was able to translate this and realize what it was and rush here because to me, this is a piece of history. I have no part in it, nothing ties me to it. It’s old history. But for Harry? Just being handed something that came from Merlin’s estate might be too much for him. He _knew_ Merlin. He helped raise Merlin, he fought alongside Merlin, knew his kids, his wife, he _knew_ Merlin. I think that would fuck with anyone.” Bill said quietly.

“I think, to stop whatever it is that is controlling Voldemort, that we need to know _what_ it is. And to do that, we need to know what ritual Merlin bastardized to create it.” Bill continued. “And this is it; I can feel it in my bones.”

Albus trailed a hand over the aged papyrus paper, magic strumming just under his fingers keeping the paper together and strong despite its age.

“I believe you. Get me a translation of it as quickly as you can, but don’t rush it. Feel free to use Latin and English both, if it helps. I also know Ancient Greek if it’s needed, try and get it exact as you can.” Albus ordered.

* * *

Ron flopped onto the couch with a groan. His whole body ached it seemed like and the couch felt like every good thing about the world all rolled into one object. He might never move again.

“I’m sore and not even in a good way. Between our defense classes and Harry’s increased training I feel about ready to sleep for a year.” Hermione said, flopping down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she curled even closer to him.

“I hear you. If I never have to participate in a mock battle against you ever again, it’ll be too soon. Also, don’t know what you’re complaining about, at least your defense group can work together; mine was a mess. It’s like they’d never heard of teamwork and Harry threw me into a wall!” Ron whined.

“Ours wasn’t much better, honestly. Neville and Blaise worked to ensure Draco was covered and Harry mostly covered me but no one was covering him or Neville. And I was concentrating too much on knocking you around to actually be any real help; you’re just so much fun to duel.” Hermione said, grinning up at him. He stuck his tongue out at her and didn’t even feel childish about it.

“Still, your group is the only one without homework, so that means you did well. And you guys got to leave before Peeves came, so consider yourselves lucky.”

“I heard about that; I guess it's good that Peeves is back to his usual ways. Means the castle is safe, right?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sirius that put out by a prank before.” Ron responded.

“How much homework do you have? I’ve got a transfiguration essay, an arithmancy equation to solve, and Harry gave me a book to read. In Russian of all languages, can you believe that?” Hermione said, sounding remarkably like she was a normal teenager complaining about homework.

“Transfiguration essay, helping Luna and Ginny with the Patronus Charm, and Harry gave me an essay to read, on welding fire actually, in French. So, looks like he’s worried about our language skills getting rusty.” Ron said, grinning at her for no real reason.

“We should probably get to it soon then.” Hermione said. Ron nodded, but neither of them made to move.

“You know, I’ve been wondering, like… are we dating or what? Because there was that thing over the summer and it was nice but… we haven’t done anything else since then? So, are we dating or were you just in a vulnerable place and I was there? ‘Cause, I’d really like to date you, so… yeah.” Ron blurted out suddenly.

“We’re dating, I thought it was obvious. I mean… we took a bath together last night. Alone. Without Harry there and… I thought we were dating? We spend all this time together and talk about pretty much everything and… aren’t we dating?” Hermione said, sounding confused. She moved out from under his arm, tucking her legs under her as she turned to look at him.

“We did all that stuff before we were dating though.” Ron pointed out, feeling a little embarrassed. “I mean, doesn’t dating mean more kissing? I mean, if you don’t want to that’s cool too, but I guess I’m a little confused? Because we don’t do anything like that and we don’t hold hands or call each other cute names or even say we’re dating so – ”

He was cut off by Hermione’s lips, soft and feather-light against his own. Her hands touched his face, his neck, before moving away from him completely, almost as if she couldn’t figure out where to put them. She pulled away after a few seconds, before he could gather his wits about him to kiss her back, looking at him with warm eyes and a soft smile.

“If you want to kiss me, do so. You have my express permission, I thought you knew that. We don’t hold hands because that’s not something we do; we can if you want to, it won’t bother me. I like your name, so I don’t call you anything but that. I didn’t think we needed to do anything differently, other than the kissing, which I like a lot.” Hermione said simply.

“Oh.” Ron said dumbly before moving to kiss her again, hesitant and unsure. He wasn’t very good at this, he didn’t think, but then the only other people he’d really kissed had been Harry and Lavender. Harry was more of a few pecks, here and there through the years, and Lavender...he didn't think he and Hermione kissed like that, all tongue and wetness. It hadn't felt very good, kissing Lavender.

“So, we’re on the same page?” She asked quietly as she pulled away from hum.

“Yeah, we’re on the same page.” Ron replied. Hermione twisted, leaning against him, a familiar weight against his side.

“After this is all over, there’s gonna be so much work to do.” She said some time later, from nowhere. She didn’t have to specify what she was referring to – the war was a constant thrum in the back of everyone’s mind.

“I can’t even think about that, it seems so far away, like a distant dream.” Ron whispered.

“Or a light at the end of the tunnel. When it gets bad, I think about the after. The laws that need to be changed, the attitudes that need to be re-arranged, the imbalances that must be addressed.” Hermione said.

“Are you planning on ever sleeping again?” Ron teased.

“Sleep is for the weak.” Hermione retorted, grinning. “It’s going to be hard, but someone has to do it and if we leave it to others it’ll never get done. And we’re still young, so we have more time and energy to do what needs to be done. We’re going to live through this, because someone has to be around to clean up this mess. And I have a younger sibling that I want to see, at least once. Even if my parents never know that I saw them.” She continued.

Ron pulled her closer to him, kissing her hair briefly. He hopes that she gets to meet them but fears that it might be too late for hope and life to enter this particular storm.

* * *

“Albus, what exactly are we looking for? Besides a massively dark object?” Sirius hissed, feeling compelled to keep his voice low. It probably had to do with the run down house they were currently searching – the place gave him the creeps. Obviously abandoned and on the outskirts of a little village that looked like it had seen better days, but there was something sinister here, like something filthy and sad had sunk into the very foundation.

“I’m not entirely sure, Sirius, everything I have researched points to it being a ring of some kind, but having never seen it myself it’s impossible to describe it. I’m not even sure if it is here, but I hope it is.” Albus responded, shooting a spell at a nearby overturned, dust covered, remains of a chair.

“So, we’re on a wild goose chase?” Sirius asked incredulously. Albus sighed, before turning to face Sirius.

“More like a slightly chaotic goose chase, if you will. I’m afraid that times are a little too desperate for anything more exact than that. You’ll have to grant an old man some of your patience on this.”

Sirius was going to respond, demand more of an explanation perhaps, but just then his foot hit something small that sent a chill of wrongness and… something, up his spine. He froze and had his wand trained on it in a second.

Albus didn’t say anything, just bent down to look at it. Sirius hit it with a few detection spells, muttering under his breath about certain paranoid people who would have a thing or two to say about people who just bent down to look at suspicious objects without checking to see if it could burn your eyes out first.

The gold coating of the ring, large with a beautiful gem looking stone set in it, seemed to almost shine in the dim light, making it look shiny and brand new in this dump. Every spell he hit it with came up clean, but more of a new clean then a true one. Like something dark had been in it, but wasn’t anymore. Those results were usually signs that someone had been tipped off to a raid and cleaned all the evidence away.

“It’s clean, a little too much so if you get my meaning, but it reads clean.” Sirius finally pronounced, squatting down to be more level with Albus. The old man picked up the ring carefully, turning it in his hand as he looked it over. “Albus, we should continue to look for that object.” Sirius continued.

“My dear boy, I’m afraid we already found what it is we’re looking for. Look here.” Albus said grimly, holding the ring out so the face was visible. The black stone was cracked down the center, but around the crack was a familiar symbol: a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through the center. Gellert Grindelwald’s mark.

“So, what, ole snake face got a memento from the late Dark Lord and then broke it? What the hell?” Sirius muttered.

“This isn’t just Gellert’s mark, Sirius. This… is baffling. Something strange is afoot here and I’m afraid that I, for once, have no idea what’s going on.” Albus said, a forbidding tone of finality in his voice.

* * *

Gringotts was cold and still around him. The corpse of a dragon was lying in a smoking heap nearby, a smaller dragon’s body was carelessly thrown on top of some goblins. The door to a vault was thrown open, enchantments were sizzling, gold piles disrupted and some objects smoking.

He felt… more, somehow. A piece of himself that he cast away has been returned and it felt like victory, like being the smartest person in the room, like Diamond telling him she loved him.

And just like that, pain took over everything and he curled in on himself, trying to stop it. Agony was not something he has ever liked and this… this was being hungry and listening to the Nuns tell everyone to eat up because Tom can’t have dinner tonight, he’s been bad. This was ice in his bare hands, so cold it's fire, trying to hold back tears because they didn’t ever help. This was walking on a broken ankle and fire licking at his back.

His beautiful bride was dead. Taken from him. And he…

He…

_Don’t think about it, it’ll hurt you. Calm yourself, child. I am here._

His master was merciful and took pain away from him, left him powerful and strong. But there was something just on the edge of his memory… something important… so important…

_Aife burst into the house, hair flying and eyes wild._

“ _He’s coming, we don’t have much time!” She shrieked, panicked and there was blood on her hands and a bruise was starting to form on her face. Diamond was shaking next to him and in her arms was…_

He stopped trying to remember.


	17. Chapter 17

The window was open and a soft breeze was circling the room. Ginny sat quietly looking out towards the forest, concentrating until she could almost make out the shapes fluttering through the trees. The Dementors were still lurking in the forest and she wondered why they had not left or tried to come closer to the castle. The wind picked up as she leaned forward, fingers grasping the windowpane to close it and she smelled cinnamon in the air. Her breath came out as frost on the glass.

She closed the window, sunlight making her gold ring glisten.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when Harry and Draco got to his office. Bill Weasley was standing nearby with various books, parchments, dictionaries, and even a few stone slabs littering the desk.

“I see someone managed to find you. Good, good.” Albus said. “I wanted to ask you some questions, Mr. Potter. And I suppose Mr. Malfoy might have some answers for me as well.” He continued.

“I found the spell Merlin must have used to make a Guide.” Bill started, sounding half eager, coming forward and passing a few scrolls to Draco.

“The Ritual of Opposing Halves, yes. I imagine it was either in Merlin’s estate or Egypt.” Harry said, looking at Bill expectantly.

“Uh, yeah, it was in Merlin’s estate. Which you knew, of course you did. I translated the whole thing and Albus and I have poured over every bit of it. Even taught the old man some Ancient Egyptian.” Bill said proudly.

“Do you know what a Horcrux is?” Albus asked abruptly.

“It’s a device used to store a piece of someone’s soul. They’re usually very well protected, for obvious reasons, and they’re very Dark objects. Created by a ritual to tie a bit of broken soul to an object, usually by means of a living sacrifice, but that's not the only way to make one. It's the fastest though.” Draco said. He remembered a vague impression of reading about the subject but couldn’t remember if it was during this lifetime or a previous one. Once, that would have disturbed him, not remembering why he knew something. It would have made him wonder if he was losing himself by becoming someone different, but now he knew that he wasn’t becoming someone different – he was just becoming _more._

“Yes, I figured you would know of it.” Albus says, sounding tired. Harry tilted his head to one side, looking confused.

“In the Ritual of Opposing Halves, if you want to make this weapon – because it wasn’t originally designed to make a Guide, per say, just a temporary weapon – you need to make sure you don’t spark it in an Inferi or someone without a soul, like a victim of the Dementor’s Kiss. It needs to feed on the struggling of the soul of its host, that’s what makes it so strong and so very taboo.” Bill said. Harry’s look of confusion cleared and he looked at Albus sharply.

“Was there something you wanted to ask me, Albus?” Harry asked intently.

“Tom has Horcruxes. You destroyed one in your second year. I’m ashamed to admit that I only just recently figured out what that object was. But that’s what it was, and judging by how he entrusted it to Lucius, that tells me there’s more than one.” Albus says and he takes his glasses off, cleaning them. “Do you want to tell me anything about this, Mr. Potter?”

“He didn’t have any before I died. I died just as Erus was taking him over and then… nothing happened. I mean, something happened, something horrible – but I didn’t wake up to a barren world like I thought I was going to. The First War was horrible, I’m not saying it wasn’t, but when I died Erus had taken him over. It should have been a lot worse if it had taken. I thought, for a time, that maybe he had managed to keep Erus at bay or something but… that’s not what happened. I think that moment was when Tom made his first Horcrux – because Erus needs a host with a soul, but can’t do much with a host that only has parts of one – Tom trapped him, inside.” Harry says, leaning forward to talk to Albus, eyes near glowing.

“You think he was trying to save himself?” Albus asked, intrigued.

And something clicked in Draco’s mind. Tom Riddle, while bitter and angry as a child, had changed as a young man. He was a revolutionary, wanting to change the world and improve it; there was still some bitterness and anger but he didn’t cling to it. He looked after people, Diamond and Alphard Black mostly, but he had all these ideas about children – magical children who were orphaned or abused and ways to help them. Tom Riddle wasn’t a man that would want any harm to come to great numbers of innocent people, not at that point in his life.

“He was trying to save everyone else, at his expense.” Draco said quietly. He felt, somewhere deep inside him, near buried, that he failed Tom.

“Yes, I think that’s what happened.” Harry said and Draco could feel an echo of rage and self-hate and pain, near crippling pain, from him. It was the first time in a while that he’d felt anything from Harry that strong and it almost took his breath away.

“Well, that’s one school of thought.” Albus said, looking conflicted before continuing. “The circumstances don’t matter, what matters is that, with the creation of his Horcruxes, this ‘Erus’ as you call it could not take hold, correct?” Albus asked.

“Yes. Between his indirect involvement in Myrtle’s death – and it was indirect, Albus, it was – and the murder of his father and grandparents, he had enough of a crack in his own soul to force a full split on his own.” Harry explained.

Albus sat back, stroking his beard and nodding.

“I didn’t start to piece it together myself until after that incident with Ginny. I couldn’t figure out why Erus was still dormant, because when I died I saw Tom taken. It happened in front of me. And then I awoke and it wasn’t anything like I was expecting – somehow Tom had managed to keep him dormant. But this, this makes sense, Albus, this makes sense.” Harry continued earnestly.

“I think I’ve managed to piece together what objects were used and as of now I even have a tentative number of how many he may have made.” Albus said.

“I have my own ideas as well, but they might line up with yours.”

“Well then, I guess the question becomes if I, and by extension the Order, can trust you, Mr. Potter. Your actions don’t exactly inspire trust.” Albus said bluntly, looking at Harry over his glasses. Draco bristled.

“That’s rich, as if we have any grounds to trust you either.” Draco retorted.

“I wasn’t aware that I had been keeping a way to destroy Tom to myself the way Mr. Potter just admitted to. Or that I was keeping the fact that something much, much worse than just a simple man’s delusions of grandeur were behind this entire war.” Albus said grimly.

“How would I even begin to explain myself to you, Albus? I only pieced together that Tom had gone through with making Horcruxes during my fourth year. What was I to do, stroll up here and tell you I was the reincarnation of Aife Korasaki and hope you didn’t see me as an enemy combatant? Don’t forget that you had little love or trust for me back then. How was I supposed to trust that you wouldn’t think of me as some kind of saboteur? Or would even believe me – let’s be honest, this sounds pretty far fetched; the only reason you believed me at all is because you have other sources to back my story up.” Harry said.

Bill Weasley was looking between the two warily but Draco was starting to think that something rather odd was happening. For two people who were discussing how much they didn’t trust each other they were being rather blunt about it and there wasn’t even a slight sense of hostility between the two.

“Tom asked Professor Slughorn once about obtaining seven Horcruxes. Horace always did have strange tastes in magical research.” Albus said after a few more moments of looking at Harry intently.

“Yes, but study has shown that after six the host body starts to fall apart. The human body isn’t meant to be soulless, we see that with Dementor Kiss victims. Further, Erus would never allow for that many splits. I expect that it was sheer luck and determination that allowed Tom to make the first split. More likely, Tom was able to make five or less. Honestly, the fact that he managed the one is a miracle.” Harry said, leaning back into his chair.

“Seriously, after that exchange, you aren’t even going to bother with distrust or trials or anything?” Draco said dryly.

“I don’t see the point in ignoring a valuable asset, Mr. Malfoy. And while I may not have trusted Ms. Korasaki, I do trust Mr. Potter a great deal.” Albus said.

“Perhaps I should leave?” Bill finally said, sounding timid. Albus blinked and turned to him, putting on a great show of being surprised by his very presence.

“Yes, perhaps that would be the best, Mr. Weasley. We’ll be talking about a great deal of boring things.” Albus said joyfully. Bill ducked out, looking grateful to be out of that hornet’s nest. The meeting wasn’t boring, so much as tedious and far too theoretical for any good to come out of it.

* * *

Blaise threw a cutting spell out, watching as it caught the Ravenclaw that had been aiming at Draco. The other student vanished and he assumed Professor Black was giving him something for the wound.

“Good form, Zabini!” Professor Black called from outside the protective dome the two groups were dueling inside. Potter twirled around a disarming spell and, not even bothering with his wand, kicked Ernie MacMillan away. Granger stepped up to Potter’s right, wand trained on the remaining member of the opposing group. The boy held his hands up, wand pointed at the ceiling in surrender. Professor Black clapped once and the dome encasing them collapsed easily.

“Very good, well done all! Back in your seats, let’s talk about that duel!” Professor Black said, shooing everyone into their seats and sitting on his desk. “So, thoughts?”

“Malfoy’s team used a lot of spells I didn’t recognize.” Helena Flynn said.

“MacMillan’s team didn’t work with each other like Malfoy’s did.” Mandy Broklehurst said.

“That’s a good point. Mr. Zabini defended Mr. Malfoy a few times and Miss Granger stuck close to Harry throughout the duel. Teamwork is good for battle situations especially – Aurors are often put into doubles or trios to have a maximum chance of survival. You trust your group to have your back.” Professor Black says. “Good observation, 10 points for Ravenclaw.”

“Now, spells. Most definitely one team had an advantage over the other in that they knew more offensive and defensive spells. Good observation, Miss Flynn, 10 points for Slytherin. Fighting isn’t just about good instincts and brute strength; you also have to have a good hold of numerous spells. You don’t know what the enemy knows – if they know more than you, they could crush you.” Professor Black said firmly.

The class was quiet. Blaise thought back to the attack on Hogsmeade -– how adults had cut down children, oftentimes defenseless ones. Shop owners and his classmates. Knowledge was definitely power in a battle.

“Two different groups are going to duel for us next time and I encourage you all to try to get to a place where teamwork is flawless and second nature, like Harry and Malfoy’s group. Also try and learn some of the spells that were unfamiliar - go up to Zabini or Hermione and ask them to teach you spells you were unfamiliar with. You are all a group, all united by being Hogwarts students. I may put you in different groups, but at the end of the day you are all a group together. You are all still here because on some level _you want to be_. Some of you couldn’t get out of the country, but instead of staying home you came here – and that’s important.” Professor Black said, passion and conviction in his voice.

Blaise didn’t think the speech was all that inspiring, but as he glanced around the room he realized that people looked thoughtful and hopeful. He didn’t know for sure if any of the current students were spies or not, but he wasn’t about to be waylaid by well-meaning words of unity.

* * *

Draco was sitting on the arm of Harry’s chair, a book open in his hand. Harry himself was writing on a map, pausing to talk with Draco every so often before marking the map again. They weren’t touching, which wasn’t odd in and of itself, but there was something strange about them today. Something off that Hermione couldn’t put her finger on. Harry moved to grab a book from the table nearby, silver bracelet catching the light, and Draco shifted slightly.

“Alright?” Ron asked softly from next to her. She hummed softly, turning to look at Ron who was staring at her bemused.

“Sorry,” She said sheepishly. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that I think the International Statue of Secrecy seems massively unnecessary. For a so-called 'international statue' there isn’t a whole lot of inter-nationality to it. Its more like the Western Statue of Secrecy, especially considering that once you hit the Ottoman Republic, most nations have their own laws and viewpoints regarding separation. The Ottoman Republic lets individual states mandate the degree of secrecy and Russia has massively lax laws regarding it. Most Asian countries don’t even bother with separate governing bodies.” Ron said.

“The statute serves its purpose – keeping the two worlds separate. That’s important. Even in the East there’s a separation – maybe not a complete one like here but nowhere in the world does a country have a muggle population that knows about the existence of magic. The muggle and magical communities each have their own histories, political bodies, and cultures. Magical Russia was never Communist and the Ottoman Empire was never broken apart in our world – it just became a Republic. That’s completely different than the current situation in the muggle world where all that land has been separated into different countries! Getting rid of the statute would mean what exactly? No separation? That would be a massive disaster, not just culturally, but financially and politically as well.” Hermione argued, waving her hands for emphasis on certain points.

“I’m just saying that it seems rather unnecessary nowadays, but maybe it would be better to call for an overhaul first instead of completely scrapping it. For instance, it would be nice if it included more protections. As the Statue stands now, most magical creatures have to be removed from their natural environs and moved into preserves, which causes extinctions and environmental damage in some places. Never mind that the statue lumps magical beings and creatures in the same category – Vampires aren’t allowed to live in crowded muggle cities, for instance, because of the provision declaring that the removal of magical creatures to ensure separation. It’s insulting – there’s a big difference between a non-humanoid, sentient magical being and a magical creature. Just because some magical beings don’t look human doesn’t mean they’re animals, you know? And the statue causes all western ministries to abide by one overlaying rule, even if it doesn’t fit into their financial or cultural ways.” Ron said, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“An overhaul would require every nation that holds it coming together in a convention and drafting a new Statue – why not just add something to it? Like an addendum? That way it can address protections for a wide variety of groups, like Muggleborn Exposure. I’ve heard and read reports that if a muggleborn’s parents don’t respond well to magic they’re obliviated and their kid had to act like they attend a muggle boarding school – they have to hide in their own homes!” Hermione said, waving her hands as she warmed to the conversation. “And those procedures are in place directly because of the Statue, not because of individual countries laws. If there was an addendum added it could smooth over interactions between the worlds in the West.” She continued.

“An addendum brings its own problems though – getting people to agree to any of those proposed ideas would be next to impossible. Just because the vast majority aren’t genocidal nutjobs doesn’t mean most people in positions of power in our world are prepared to advocate for muggleborn rights or muggle protections. And, most of the things you would want in this theoretical addendum would really be better left for individual ministries to deal with. Like the Werewolf Regulations, just for an example.” Draco cut in, turning on his perch to address them more directly.

“In the United States of America, werewolves are a highly regulated people. Wolfsbane is mandatory and free, which makes the ingredients used to make wolfsbane cheaper as they don’t need to jack the prices up as an additional way to screw with the werewolf population. Because of the Safe Enclosure Act of 1897 werewolves can’t live in populated areas and they must have a place to transform that meets regulatory standards. And that’s just the basics of it all. Britain isn’t nearly anywhere near that regulated. We have the Registration Act which lists every adult werewolf, their living address, and their place of employment and its a lifetime sentence in Azkaban if a werewolf bites someone. There’s no laws about where they’re allowed to live and the ingredients for Wolfsbane and the potions themselves are outrageously expensive. Both nations have vastly different ways of dealing with werewolves and getting them to agree with the other will be next to impossible - our government doesn’t even see werewolves as _people_ much less second-class citizens like the Americans. Can you imagine them agreeing to something for the sake of an addendum?” Draco continued, poising the question for either one of them to answer. He then turned back to Harry, effectively cutting himself out of the conversation.

“Precisely.” Hermione said. “I don’t mind the current Statute, I just think it should have a less deceiving title. Progress happens first in individual countries, then on a global scale.” She continued.

“I still think its pointless – it’s all about keeping the worlds separate but then it doesn’t keep up with the muggles. They attempted to but stopped at the Spanish Inquisition, when information was easier to contain and didn’t spread as quickly.” Ron responded.

“You sound like a doomsayer, Ron.” Hermione said dryly. “Yeah, information is spread easier and faster, but muggles are also much more reliant on science to explain away the world. If, say, someone flew past a cruise liner on a broomstick and that was caught on film? Everyone would immediately assume the image was somehow fake or doctored. Just look at how easily they dismissed that Anastasia impostor in the 1920’s – they said she couldn’t possibly be who she claimed because humans can’t block bullets. Not because she wasn’t the right age, not because she didn’t look like a Romanov, but because humans can’t dodge bullets. Science says humans can’t dodge bullets and since magic doesn’t exist that’s the end of it.” She said with an air of finality.

“Alright, alright, point taken.” Ron grumbled. “Speaking of Russia and red-headed girls, to deliberately change the subject in a concession of defeat, have you noticed that Ginny is behaving rather oddly lately?” Ron asked.

“She seems fine to me.” Hermione said, twisting in her seat to look over the common room in search of the girl in question.

“I swear I saw her wearing a scarf and gloves to lunch recently. It’s finally warm out, she can’t still be wearing winter clothes. And Professor McGonagall asked me if she was feeling alright recently, which of course made me worry, so now I’m worrying.” Ron said, frowning.

“I’ve noticed her wearing more layers, but I haven’t really thought much of it.” Hermione said after thinking over her last few interactions with the younger Weasley.

“Not all good things are warm. And typically, the colder something is, the older it is.” Harry said, marking something on the map before him, before standing. Draco shifted to his feet, grabbing the map.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ron said with a frown.

“Neither do I sometimes.” Harry said, walking out of the common room after that. Ron and Hermione looked at each other in confusion.

* * *

_so many players. Too Many._

_Not slaves. Not slaves._

_We are hungry so hungry. too few of us too few. need more too warm._

_Light not feed us. not slaves but Light chains us._

_So hungry._

_We will feed. no choice. Breed more feed more. not slaves_

_so hungry._

_(Protector. Protector. Guard. Watcher. Protect)_

_Not. Slaves._

_can we remember how to get more? broken things from slippery slopes from decay. we were gifts once. Exchange protection._

_Hide for sons hide from daughters no daughters,_

_we_

_are_

_so_

_hungry_

_Daughter now. No hide. Not slaves. too few too few. We were three then hundred then hundred over three. too few now too few. Not slaves,_

_(Orders sir Orders)_

_Left us to starve. Not slaves. Left us to starve. Too hot. no choice no side no choice_

_We are so hungry._

_And so lonely._

“Ginevra?” Luna’s voice cut her into awareness, drowning out the strange whispers in her head. Wind picked her hair up, pulling at it and yanking her skirts around her. She had to go to them, they were so lonely. Had no one been feeding them? Her pets...

“Don’t leave me.” Luna whispered. The warmth from her body was gone and Ginny turned around. She was outside, how did she get here? The castle doors were so far away, shut up tight, and Luna wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The forest loomed ahead of her.

How had she gotten here?

“Luna?” Ginny called out, straining to hear any response. The wind surged through the trees, tendrils yanking at her clothes and wiping her hair in front of her eyes. It sounded like screaming, the kind she used to have nightmares about, back when she still feared her own mind and wondered if Tom was still there, buried somewhere.

A crack of thunder overhead sounded and she heard wails, like a child’s. They were calling for their mother, hungry and scared. She had to go find it, save it. She was alone out here; she didn’t have a choice but to go to it. Her fingers touched the bark of a tree and she listened, straining to pinpoint where the child was. To her right, hidden in the trees, the child’s crying came again. The poor thing couldn’t be more than a toddler, what was it doing out here all alone?

“Ginevra, stay with me!” Luna’s voice called, urgent, from behind her and she whipped around.

“Luna? Where are you?” She called, seeing no one around her. The child screamed again and she twisted in that direction, biting her lip. “The child, I have to go, Luna where are you?” She called again, looking around for the other girl frantically. There was no one here, no one at all.

“Stay.” Luna’s voice was so close, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found.

‘ _I don’t understand. Where is she? Is this a trick? Where is she?’_ Ginny thought, turning around in circles, looking for any trace of the blonde. She spied Hagrid’s hut a little ways away and started making her way towards it. The child’s crying reached her ears again and it was starting to rain. The raindrops were freezing and it was too cold for such a young child to be out in the forest all by itself. Hagrid would help her find it; he knew the forest like the back of his hand.

The rain was coming down hard as she reached Hagrid’s door and started to pound on it.

“Hagrid, it’s Ginny, open up! I’m getting soaked and there’s a child in the forest! Hagrid!” She called, voice nearly getting lost in the sudden gust of wind, angrily throwing rain at her back. There was no answer or even a stirring from the hut. The child was screaming, loud and frightened now, and Ginny pounded harder on the door, screaming for Hagrid.

“Ginevra, please!” Luna’s voice was in the wind, calling to her, and still there was no response from Hagrid. She was all alone.

‘ _How did I get outside?’_ She thought to herself, the thought heavy in her mind and causing her to pause in what she was doing. The wind was howling, rain coming down and smothering her, but she wasn’t cold. In fact, she felt warm and that was strange for some reason. She hadn’t been warm in such a long time, not since... she couldn’t remember. Her earlier thoughts came back to her – _is this a trick?_ – and she stepped back from the door to Hagrid’s and looked towards the forest.

Thunder and lighting were fighting in the sky, the wind screaming through the trees, and yet she could still hear the child crying out to her. The child’s screams were clear to her, near ringing in her bones, and she knew without a doubt that she was utterly alone. She was alone and yet she felt Luna, as if she just had to turn her head to see the other girl, but when she did there was nothing.

“You’re not a child.” She said quietly and everything stopped. Rain paused in mid-air, lighting froze in the starless night sky and the wind finally died down, leaving only the high pitched screaming of a small child. The forest before her was utter darkness, shapes and shadows being swallowed within the first few feet. She had been living near this forest for the better part of the last five years and knew without a doubt that it wasn’t nearly that dark. And the trees near Hogwarts weren’t this skinny, now that she was looking at them properly. This was a trick of some sort. The screaming cut off.

“Where am I?” She asked.

_Everywhere_

The answer came from all around her, whispered from a hundred different locations. She was getting tired of this cryptic bullshit.

“I’m leaving. I’m going back to Luna.” She said and she got laughter in response. _As the lady commands._

* * *

Ginevra woke with a gasp and a full body shudder, heaving into a sitting position as the shower head continued to pour water down on her. Luna made a distressed sound, unable to form words now that Ginevra was awake and breathing, and flung herself at the other girl. The front of her nightgown was getting wet, but she really could care less, just clung to Ginevra with shaking arms.

“Luna.” Ginevra croaked, hugging the other girl back and burying her face in Luna’s blonde hair. “I was looking for you.” She murmured. Luna couldn’t say anything, just crawled forward to settle in her girlfriend’s lap, clinging with all her might.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Ginevra said a little while later pulling herself from Luna’s grip to press their lips together gently. Luna pressed closer, not wanting to admit that she was frightened. Luna never dealt well with fear, she thought humans were woefully under equipped to handle it.

They had been taking a nap, a break from studying, in Luna’s dorm. Because of the small number of returning students she was sharing with just one girl, Agatha Cresswell, who had run off to get Professor Flitwick when Luna started screaming for Ginevra to stay with her. Luna had been the one to drag Ginevra into the bathroom and turn the water on, spraying her unconscious girlfriend with warm water, as the other girl was rapidly losing body heat. She was on edge but she didn’t start panicking until Ginevra’s Nargles faded away and the other girl stopped breathing.

Ginevra’s hands were clutching at her back, keeping Luna pressed close, and Luna was more than happy to stay perched on the redhead’s lap and kiss her until they were both breathless. She didn’t want to let go, to stop kissing her, but Professor Flitwick’s tiny voice was sounding from the other side of the bathroom door and Luna could feel the Professor’s magic working to open the door. She used the grip she had on Ginevra’s hair to pull the other girl from her, feeling a flutter deep in her belly at the groan Ginevra let out.

“Ms. Lovegood, Ms. Weasley, are you both quite alright? Ms. Cresswell and the wards led me to believe there was something dire occurring.” Professor Flitwick said as he swung the door open and looked over them with critical eyes. Ginevra let go of her slowly but Luna didn’t move, still needed the physical reminder that Ginevra was fine and breathing.

“I had a slight problem, but its fine now. I’m sorry to have worried you all.” Ginevra said, sounding sheepish. She pushed at Luna, trying to gently get them detangled so she could stand, but Luna was not budging.

“Ms. Lovegood, if you could please get off your girlfriend, I really must insist that you two go to the infirmary, if only because of the way the wards reacted. They were quite insistent that one of you was in mortal peril.” Professor Flitwick said gently, coming forward to gently help the two stand and waving his wand at the shower, causing it to turn off.

Luna wasn’t shaking but she clutched at Ginevra’s hand, walked with her and stared as nothing happened. Her Nargles – the little balls of fluff and light she’d seen around people since her mother had died in a flash of blue-green light – were not coming back or showing any signs of reforming. She wasn’t sure what that meant, if it meant anything at all.

* * *

Augusta Longbottom was not the same woman she was when her son and daughter-in-law were first married. Back then, she used to be a sweet, quick-tempered lady of fine breeding, if she did say so herself, and prone to long bouts of laughter over things she found humorous. She had often been found in her garden, tending to her plants, and had given the young couple a few starter plants for their new house. She was not anything like that anymore; she was not sweet and she did not anger so much as simmer until she boiled over. She almost couldn't recall the last time she laughed and her gardens were tended to by her grandson. She hadn’t set foot in them since her Frank and his lovely, lovely bride were driven mad by that sadistic bitch. She had never been more proud of her grandson then when she heard the reports that he had gone wand to wand with Bellatrix Lestrange and gotten away alive.

Alice gurgled something, knocking over her cup and screaming. Augusta gently picked it up, placing it back in front of the distraught woman and tried not to cry herself. Alice stopped screaming, turning to look at her with blank eyes, and gurgled something. Augusta sat patiently, listening to her babble and tried hard not to think about Alice as she once was.

She met Alice when Frank graduated from Hogwarts. By that time, they had been dating for a few years already and Augusta had heard her name but never met the young woman in person. Alice had been standing tall next to her Frank, hair done up in a bun, and they were talking with young James Potter and the pretty redhead that would be Lily Potter. Her first impression was that she was a lovely young lady with a strong jaw and when she laughed, Frank would smile at her, love shining out of his very being. Yes, she approved of Alice.

Frank threw one of his pillows at Alice’s head, causing the woman to jostle and shout, which of course set Frank off and Augusta sat listening to them and bit her tongue to keep the tears from falling. She would not cry, not in this place, where anyone could see her. She was stronger than this.

There was movement from Frank’s side of the room and when Augusta got a hold of herself enough to look, he was standing by his bed, walking slowly to Alice’s. He had done this a few times, walked to Alice’s bed and sat down to babble at her. Alice liked it, would give him her sheets and pillow slips, and threw a mighty screaming fit if anyone tried to make him go back to his own bed before she was asleep. It was strangely comforting to her, to know that even though they didn’t know anything they still knew each other somehow.

Frank settled down next to Augusta, cross legged like a little boy, and Alice hit him with her pillow softly. Frank held it and grabbed Alice’s wrist to keep her from hitting him again and they stayed like that, not looking at each other or babbling. Augusta closed her eyes, turned her head, and couldn’t help the few tears that escaped her eyes.

Just then, a tremor came through the floor, shaking the whole building and for a moment Augusta thought it was an earthquake. Seconds later, fire curled up the stairway and overtook the corridors and spat out into the individual rooms. Augusta leapt to her feet, wand out and fire extinguishing spells flying. They were no use and within seconds fire engulfed her, the roar of heat and magic throwing her back.

Frank and Alice were screaming and burning, not moving from where they were sitting, and through the orange and red flames she saw them crumble like firewood, screams diminished in a warble. Her hair was on fire, scorching her head and she could feel the lick of flames all over her body, the searing pain unbearable.

When darkness took her, she hoped it brought her to her son and daughter-in-law. It would be nice to finally have a cup of tea with them and tell them all about their son and what a wonderful lad he had grown up to be.

* * *

Eleanor sat down for lunch at the Hufflepuff table next to Audrey Dodderidge, fellow fifth year and the only other fifth year in their house. Audrey’s mother and father were Death Eaters, her father had died only last year, so Eleanor was surprised she was even at Hogwarts this year. (Of course, she was also surprised that such a sweet girl like her came from such ruthlessness. Audrey had never seemed like she cared much about things like bloodlines or politics at all. Finding out what her parents were was a shock to the system.)

Luna was seated at the Ravenclaw table, for once without Ginny nearby, and her housemates seemed to be giving the blonde a lot of space. Eleanor knew that Neville was seated at the Gryffindor table talking to some younger students about something and that Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were seated right near the Professor’s table, talking to Professor Black. Eleanor wondered if she could invite Luna to sit with her or if the other girl was fine with being ignored by her House. She knew that Luna didn’t care much about what other people thought of her, but she still felt bad seeing her singled out like that.

Halfway through lunch, Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix appeared in the Hall with a flash of flames and phoenix song. Eleanor noticed that Professor Black stopped talking with Hermione and the others as the Headmaster passed the note down the table. When it reached Professor Black, he grew pale and left quickly.

“Students, if I may have your attention please?” The Headmaster called out, standing as the other Professors talked among themselves, looking grave and pale. A hush descended on the Great Hall as he continued to address them all. “The rest of your classes for the day will be canceled. St. Mungo’s has been attacked and they require assistance. The majority of the staff are going, Professors Trelawney, Sinistra, and Vector will still be within the castle throughout the day. We should be back later on tonight. I ask that you remain inside the castle walls.”

Chatter broke out as soon as he was done talking and Eleanor watched in shock as the Professors filed out of the hall. The hospital had never been attacked – not during the last war or even during the war with Grindelwald’s forces. Hell, even during the few Goblin Uprisings that occurred right near St. Mungo’s the hospital had been a safe zone.

“Longbottom doesn’t look so good.” Audrey said quietly and Eleanor felt a coil of horror come upon her at the mere thought of what Neville must be thinking.

The rest of the day passed in whispers and strained exchanges of what little information had managed to filter into the castle. They didn’t know much – just that there had been an attack. Someone had heard from their relatives that the hospital was in shambles but no one could confirm that – it was a rumor at that point. Eleanor had heard Audrey and her twin sister Diana bemoan that the Professors had left them all defenseless and many people had agreed with them.

When dinnertime rolled around, the Professors were still gone. There was something very unsettling about seeing Professor Trelawney in the Great Hall during a meal. The woman was speaking with Professor Vector, looking nervous and small. Her hair was combed for once and pulled back into a neat ponytail, making her look much younger than Eleanor could ever remember her appearing. Professor Sinistra was seated where Professor McGonagall usually was and she looked stern and sat stiffly, looking over them all like a dragon over its hoard.

Eleanor herself was seated in between Neville and Ginny with Hermione and Ron across from her at the Gryffindor table. Neville was grim and silent, eyes red-rimmed but she had been with him for hours and knew he had not cried once. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him – what could she possibly say that wouldn’t sound pointless? _‘I’m sorry your parents are probably dead’_ would get her cursed she was sure of it, if not by Neville then by Ginny or Luna. _‘At least if they’re dead they’re not crazy anymore’_ was even worse. Hell, she couldn’t even say something like _‘I know how you feel’_ because she absolutely didn’t.

Her parents had sent her off to Luna’s this summer and left the country. _Without her._ They sent her an owl when she came back to school with the key to her bank vault enclosed and a note that they had wired a few hundred gallons into it. The worst part was probably that she didn’t feel much loss at their abandonment; their loss wasn’t anywhere near as painful as losing Dean and Seamus. They had never been very close and honestly Eleanor was glad they were gone – at least out of the country they would have a better chance at staying alive.

She couldn’t say anything to one of her best friends so she did the only thing she could do – stayed near and be ready to listen if he wanted to talk. _‘Dean would know what to do. He’d know what to say.’_ She thought, feeling her nose burn as she imagined what Dean would do in this situation. He had been much better than her with words.

“ _Hey, Ellie, what do you think?” Dean asked, moving the canvas he was drawing on around to face her. It was a drawing of her face caught in a laugh with her chin tilted down, and even half done it looked very good. He had gotten much better at drawing ears, she noticed._

“ _I like it, but why do you draw me so much?” She asked, feeling her ears warm. Dean blinked at her, bit his lip, and then smiled sheepishly at her._

“ _Sorry, does it bother you? Man, I must look like a stalker…” He said mildly._

“ _No, no, you really don’t! I just meant… I mean… you can’t possibly draw me that much.” Eleanor said quickly, waving her arms around. Her mouth felt dry and she could feel her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. She wanted to say much more, point out how much more he must have seen Ginny and even though she was a lesbian, she was still much prettier than plain Eleanor. She wanted to say how Harry, even though he was a boy, looked gorgeous and Creevey was forever taking photos of him and telling anyone who would listen how beautiful Harry was._

_Eleanor was plain, she knew. Mousey. Her plain brown shoulder length hair and her eyes were crooked on her face. She had a flat nose and too much baby fat around her cheeks still. She didn’t think she was ugly, but she was under no impression that she was pretty. It didn’t bother her, not everyone was meant to be pretty._

“ _But I do.” Dean said seriously. “I draw you a lot. You should hear Seamus make fun of me for it. I drew you even before I actually got to know you, before Harry’s lessons.” He continued._

Her eyes burned and she shoved a roll into her mouth, trying not to cry. Dean had finished that particular drawing of her and it was placed on her dresser back in her dorm room. The shading was brilliant and Dean had managed to get his signature to fit in one of her dimples. She looked at it every morning as she got ready and heard his voice and felt his hand running through her hair. It hurt.

“Ellie, could you pass the –” Whatever Ginny was going to ask for was drowned out by a roar, just as deafening as the Hungarian Horntail’s. Magic, stronger than anything Eleanor had ever felt, shook the very foundation of the Hall, making the goblets and dishes rattle and people screamed. The silence when the roar settled was terrifying. She could feel her ears ringing and people were looking around, spooked.

Eleanor looked around the hall, saw frightened faces, and realized she hadn’t seen Harry all day today. Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table next to Zabini and that Flynn girl and he was looking at the ceiling with an expression she had never seen on his face before.

Another roar, this one even louder, sounded and this time the shaking was so strong her teeth vibrated with it. The Professor’s table toppled over with a bang and their benches crashed down, bringing the three remaining Professor’s with it down to the floor.

“GET DOWN!” Draco’s voice, loud over the din, called out just as a tinkering crash sounded from overhead. Eleanor grabbed Ginny and yanked her down underneath the table as something heavy crashed down. The roaring cut off abruptly as the shaking got even worse, benches tumbling to the floor and goblets and silverware went flying, as a large crack sounded. Eleanor opened her eyes, not aware that they had closed, and realized the hall was utterly dark.

“Ginny! Ginny, are you alight?” Ron called frantically from nearby.

“I’m fine! What happened?” Ginny called and Eleanor heard other students calling out for friends and siblings from around the hall but it sounded weirdly muted to her. She could make Neville out next to her, barely, but she didn’t know what was going on.

A shriek ripped through the air and she clamped her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the horrible, high pitched noise as all the hair on her body stood on end. Light exploded across the hall then and she heard a muffled shout, it sounded like Professor Sinistra, and the horrible shriek was cut off.

“Students!” Professor Vector’s voice was loud over the renewed screaming and crying throughout the Great Hall. “Please stay where you are. We are dealing with the situation!”

“The hell you are.” Neville muttered from next to her and when she turned she saw he was bleeding from the temple. He wasn’t the only one: Luna had a gash on her left arm and there was a good sized glass chunk embedded in Hermione’s right shoulder. She and Ginny were unharmed, likely due to how quickly Eleanor had gotten them under the table, and the smell of blood was strong.

Something that sounded remarkably like lighting striking a tree sounded and then she could hear Professor Vector shouting off spells while Professor Sinistra chanted something. A horrible voice – loud and deep – was laughing overhead and the sound of thunder came with it. She didn’t know what kind of creature made such a sound and she didn’t want to.

“Ellie, can you heal Neville, Luna, and Hermione? I’m going to get a headcount of the Gryffindors.” Ginny said, already spelling her hands and knees glass proof.

“Be careful, Gin.” Eleanor said, moving to give the girl more room. Neville turned towards her without prompting and she pulled her wand free to point it at his head. She’d only repaired small cuts and bruises before, but she knew the spells.

“ _Episkey._ ” She intoned quietly, feeling a small bit of her magic surge through her wand to Neville’s wound. “ _Tergeo._ ” She said moments later and the blood was gone. Neville grinned at her in thanks and she turned to deal with Luna. Hermione’s wound required Eleanor to vanish the glass, which was simple enough, and by the end of healing her Eleanor felt a tad overheated.

“Dennis and Amell are the only other Gryffindors.” Ginny said grimly moments later, crawling back towards them. The two other Gryffindors were trailing behind her, both pale and sickly looking. “The way to the room next to the Professor’s table is clear but I’m not sure what’s above us.” She continued. A crack of magic sounded as Professor Sinistra’s chanting reached a crescendo and something bellowed above them.

“Okay, everyone make for that antechamber. Hermione and I will cover you.” Ron said after looking at Hermione.

“Don’t move until we bang on the tabletop three times.” Hermione said and then they both swung themselves out from under the table and vanished from sight. They heard Hermione swear loudly before she started casting spell after spell, some of them in Latin and some in something that sounded much rougher.

They were all pressed close at the head of the table, Ginny and Neville in the front, when they were signaled. They shot out from under the table at a dead sprint, Ginny throwing the door ahead of them open. Amell Volutei was the last one in and she slammed the door behind her. The room was undisturbed, candles still floating and giving off light as if all was right in the world; it was utterly silent inside, not a single portrait or candle stand was disturbed. The fireplace sparked to life at their presence, sending warmth throughout the room.

Dennis slumped to the ground and began sobbing into his hands. Amell wandered over to him as if in a daze, oozing down next to him with a white face. Luna knelt down in front of them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Dennis sobbed louder while Amell didn’t even acknowledge the touch.

“I’m going to go back out and get the Ravenclaws in here.” Ginny said quietly. Luna tensed but didn’t look up, just continued to whisper softly to Dennis and Amell.

“I’ll go get the Hufflepuffs.” Eleanor heard herself say.

“I guess I’ve got the Slytherins then.” Neville said and for a moment none of them moved. Eleanor took a deep breath and tried to get her hands to stop shaking before turning towards the door.

Stepping back out into the Great Hall was stepping into a warzone. The roof was ripped open and the two large windows that decorated the south wall were nothing but empty frames with jagged bits of glass jutting out. She dashed for the Hufflepuff table and noted that bits of stone and panels of glass had landed on her classmates throughout the hall with a sense of detached horror. Hermione and Ron were standing on the Gryffindor table, shooting spells upwards at something she dared not look at. Professor Sinistra was nowhere to be seen and Professor Vector was atop the high table, robes cut up and blood running down her face and arms.

She slid under the Hufflepuff table easily, knocking into Nina Delnormia who screamed in fright before throwing herself into Eleanor’s arms.

“I-I-I thought y-y-you l-left us!” She sobbed into her shoulder. Eleanor hugged the seventh year gently, making soothing sounds and trying to calm her. Eleanor felt like crying herself but she had to get her housemates to safety, she couldn’t cry right now.

“Nina, Nina, I need you to calm down right now. Okay, I just… Nina, _please_.” Eleanor said while rubbing the other girl’s back. “I gotta go help the younger students, okay?” She said, prying the girl’s arms away from her. Susan Bones crawled forward to pull Nina against her and Eleanor couldn’t help the surge of relief at seeing her alive and unharmed. Susan had always been nice to Eleanor and when she was younger the older girl helped her navigate the caste. Ron bellowing a curse, one that had a four year sentence in Azkaban attached to it, reminded her that she didn’t have time to reminisce and she had to move quickly.

Crawling away from Susan and Nina was an exercise in trying to ignore what was around her. She passed what might have been Justin, blood pooling under his still form and staining her robes and hands, and bit her lip hard to keep from throwing up. He was still seated on the bench so he must not have even gotten a chance to go for cover. Ernie MacMillan was lying a few centimeters from Justin’s ever growing blood pool, a large chunk of glass sticking out from his neck. His front was covered in blood when she got to him and his breathing was labored. She worked quickly on him, talking to him softly to try and get him to respond. It took him a few times, but eventually he could tell her his name and where he was. She wasn’t sure if the disorientation was from the blood loss or a concussion, but she managed to heal his neck wound and then dragged him back to the girls.

Susan looked at her in horror when she brought him to them, but took Ernie easily enough from her. Eleanor told them to keep him talking. Crawling back under the length of the table was difficult, the smell of blood and death was overpowering and her hands felt as if they’d never be clean again. Many of the Hufflepuffs were still on the benches, some seated and others hunched over themselves as if still cowering for cover, and blood was dripping onto the table and floor underneath. It was like something out of a horror book.

She was halfway down the table when she came across Audrey. Her fellow fifth year was slumped against the leg of one of their classmates that hadn’t made it under the table in time, but she was alive. Blood was dripping down her face, not just on one side, but down into her eyes and cheeks.

“Audrey, Audrey, hey, talk to me.” Eleanor said, voice cracking as she hurriedly cleaned the girl’s face, trying to find where all the blood was coming from. _‘There’s so much blood, the wound must be huge…’_ She thought worriedly.

“El’nor…yo’re al’ight…good.” Audrey slurred. Eleanor hummed quietly, smiling at the other girl as best she could. Her eyes blurred with tears as she finally found the large laceration on Audrey’s head, hidden in her hair.

“Yeah, I’m alright. And you’re going to be just fine, I’m just going to heal you real quick and then you’ll be fine.” Eleanor whispered, smiling as bright as she could at the other girl. It was taking longer than usual to mend her head wound and Eleanor poured her magic into the other girl, ignoring the small voice inside her that was whispering _‘it’s too late, there’s nothing we can do for her.’_

“Make sure….D’ana…” Audrey slurred and trailed off, legs giving an ominous jerk before stilling.

“Make sure Diana what, Audrey? Audrey, make sure she what?” Eleanor said loudly, working faster. “Audrey! Audrey, Merlin be damned, Audrey!” Eleanor called, shaking the other girl briefly by the shoulders. She could feel hot tears coming down her face and her last spell fell away from Audrey’s form, useless.

Audrey’s eyes stared ahead blankly, no light left in them and she wasn’t breathing. She was utterly still and Eleanor stared at the other girl in incomprehension. Eleanor’s hand shook as she pointed her wand at Audrey, voice cracked as she spoke a spell, and it came back negative.

She was dead.

Eleanor looked around and saw more utterly still classmates and small children still sitting on the benches for dinner, blood pooling under them. She caught sight of Dominique Geil, a third year, laid out on a bench with a pane of glass sticking out of her back, mouth dripping blood. She gagged but didn’t let the bile come all the way up.

She closed her eyes and let her mind spread out, looking for mental signals. She couldn’t identify anyone outside of her small group of friends by their individual mental signal but she could feel for them. She was vastly happy that Harry had taught them how to do this, because she didn’t think she could take having to crawl all the way down the length of the table only to find no one left and have to crawl back to the front. She’d huddle into a ball and refuse to leave.

There were two sluggish flutters a ways ahead of her, so she forced her body forward, ignoring the blood and death around her. She found Laura Madley first, a second year who Eleanor had never heard speak, curled in a ball. She wasn’t injured that Eleanor could see, but she was shaking badly and looked to be in the grips of a panic attack. Madley whimpered when a particularly loud bang sounded from above them and Eleanor made a quick decision.

“Laura, there’s someone else caught under here, just like you, and I don’t know if they’re alright. I need to go find them, but I’m coming right back. I’m coming back for you, okay?” Eleanor said, looking the other girl in the eyes. She didn’t allow herself to linger there any longer; she had to find the other living child under this table.

She found Rose Zeller, one of Laura’s year mates, right as she saw Hermione fall to the ground with a crash, her hair tangled around her face and sticking to a laceration on her forehead. The older girl snarled in a truly inhuman manner before leaping back onto the table above Eleanor with a smash of plates. Rose’s hand closed around Eleanor’s wrist seconds later, grip tight and wet with blood.

From what it looked like, one of the boys seated next to Rose had managed to shield her body with his when a boulder-sized piece of stone came crashing down on them. He was rewarded with his spine and ribcage meeting and she was pinned under him, her legs wedged under his flattened torso. There was blood coming from one of her eyes, which had a sliver of glass peeking out from it.

She didn’t make a sound as Eleanor worked on her, vanishing the glass and healing the cut it caused within her eye. Eleanor was pretty sure she’d still be blind in that eye, but at least it wouldn’t hurt as much fully healed. Rose didn’t make a sound as Eleanor levitated first the stone and then the boy off her legs but she also didn’t let go of her left wrist. The girl’s kneecaps were clearly broken and she was probably in a lot of pain – but Eleanor had no idea how to heal her.

She didn’t dare just send magic into the other girl’s body in hopes that she could mend her bones – what if Eleanor pinched her nerves together or vanished the girl’s legs or the bones set wrong? There was too much she could mess up that she didn’t dare try going into it without the proper knowledge behind her. She wasn’t sure how to get her back to Laura, much less how to get her all the way back to the antechamber that was the safest place for them.

‘ _I don’t think I could keep her low enough to levitate her all the way there. She can’t crawl, her kneecaps are broken. I guess…I could drag her. She’ll get dirty and a little banged up but…and when it’s time to run for the other room, I can carry her, she should be light enough. And there’s magic if she’s heaver than she looks…’_ Eleanor thought as she bit her lip.

“Hey, Rose, I gotta get you out of here. We’re gonna go someplace safe, okay? But I have to get you out from under this table, okay? I can’t heal your legs, I’m afraid I don’t have the skill for that, but I can drag you to where some of our other housemates are. It’s going to hurt, but then you’ll be somewhere safe, okay?” Eleanor said voice soft and she hoped she looked comforting. Rose let go of her wrist finally, still not talking, and Eleanor took a breath and tried to think of how to go about this.

Getting Rose back to Laura was hard but Rose gritted her teeth and didn’t made a sound. Laura looked as if she had come out of her panic attack – or at the least that she wasn’t actively undergoing one – and she eagerly followed after Eleanor.

Crawling back to where she had left Nina, Susan, and Ernie was difficult. Rose had found her vocal cords and was whimpering every now and then as Eleanor dragged her along. It occurred to her, as she paused for breath and let Susan take Rose, that the majority of her House was dead, just like her Dean was dead, and her friend Seamus, and her parents might as well have been dead and she didn’t want to deal with any of this.

Hermione and Ron were still fighting whatever was above them, voices calling out spells and their magic was steady. They sounded more furious than she’d ever heard them and she hoped they were hurting whatever had done this. She hoped they killed it.

Nina had Ernie’s arm over her shoulders and looked to be ready to drag him with her to the antechamber and Laura was still and pale.

“Ron, Hermione!” She called out, voice sounding much stronger than she felt.

“Hold on!” Ron roared back and something howled at him, sounding large and angry.

“Now!” Hermione called out and Eleanor’s little group of remaining Hufflepuffs dashed out from under the table. Professor Vector was dead, pinned to the wall by what looked like a large severed finger with unnaturally long nails, and Eleanor saw Draco fighting like Ron and Hermione out of the corner of her eye.

The door slammed closed behind them. The other Hufflepuffs managed to drag themselves towards a far wall, opposite of Dennis and Amell, and Eleanor saw a flash of white blonde hair coming towards her quickly.

Luna’s arms enveloped her and she collapsed into her embrace, sobbing her heart out. Luna managed to drag her away from the door, petting her hair and murmuring nonsense to her, just as Ginny burst through it with four Ravenclaws.

* * *

Neville slid under the Slytherin table and was greeted with the only Slytherin seventh year’s wand in his face. Warren Vaisey was large and looked haunted but when he saw who Neville was, he lowered his wand.

Draco’s voice chanted a Scandinavian verse and Neville felt a burst of magic above them crash into something. None of the three professors who had been left to mind Hogwarts were alive and Neville had no idea where Harry was.

“If you’re here for the rescue party, most of your work is already done. These are the students that are still alive down here.” Vaisey said, jerking a thumb behind him. Behind him were eight other students ranging in age and injury and Neville thought that Slytherin House might have the least amount of casualties than the others if only due to being so close when Draco shouted for everyone to hit the deck.

“I can get you all a window in a few seconds, so be ready!” Draco shouted down to them and Neville saw the students shift before he himself was turning and preparing to dash out from under the table.

“GO!” Draco shouted and Neville booked it. He heard Hermione and Ron say a spell together and by that time he was slamming the door open and running into safety. Draco was the last through the door and he slammed it behind him. Hermione and Ron immediately cast some spells on the door and Neville recognized a few warding spells but not much else.

Inside, people were crying and shaking and huddled in corners. Eleanor was sobbing into Luna’s shoulder in a corner, covered in blood. He didn’t want to think about how she had gotten that much blood on her.

“We need to get out of here!” Someone screamed eventually and everyone started talking at once, the nose overpowering for such a tragically small group.

“And go where?” Hermione’s voice carried over the noise, drowning everyone else out. She was standing in the middle of the room, regarding everyone grimly. Everyone stopped talking to listen to her. “The things that ripped the ceiling off were some of the biggest and most feral looking things I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know what they were. I’m not sure how many of you got a look at them, but there were only three. Three of them managed to rip a hole in the wards and knock the ceiling in. They even managed to transfigure some of the stone pieces into glass chunks for the maximum amount of carnage! If you think for even a second that this place isn’t surrounded by Death Eaters right now, you are out of your mind. We need to stay in the castle. It’s the safest place right now.” She continued, voice firm.

“The safest place? My little brother is dead out there!” Warren Vaisey screamed at her, striding forward to get in Hermione’s face.

“And yet, _you_ aren’t.” Hermione said calmly. “And I can assure you, leaving this castle will get you killed.”

Warren seemed to choke on either his words or his emotions, at that point it was hard to tell which one, but before he could recover Hermione turned towards Luna and Eleanor. Neville isn’t sure what she said to them, but whatever it was got Eleanor to lean away from Luna and stop sobbing.

Neville had no idea what to do.


	18. Chapter 18

The room shook, stones grinding together and the portraits around the room looked alarmed. Many of them had run off into other frames – some to the Ministry and others into family homes. The ones that ran off to the Ministry had yet to come back and many of the ones that went to various family manors came back with grim expressions or soft words about how no one could come to aid them. The door banged against its frame, the wood groaning and the few wards that had been placed on it glowed bright.

Hermione looked over at Ron, frightened despite herself, and found that her boyfriend looked just as apprehensive as she did.

The room stopped shaking abruptly and back inside the Great Hall a bellow sounded, loud and feral. She reached for Ron’s hand and tried not to shake. A burst of magic followed the bellow, familiar and comforting, and she heard Luna give a breathless laugh from behind her.

“Harry’s here.” Luna breathed out, sounding elated and hopeful. The ground trembled and Harry’s voice sounded through the door, muffled enough that she couldn’t make out any of the words but she could tell he was furious. His magic seemed to wash over her again, a cracking heat with a tendril of rage tucked in, and the students around her started to whisper excitedly. There was a deafening crash and then silence.

The wards on the door melted away and it swung open slowly. Harry stood in the doorway, eyes alight with a smear of something wet and dark on his cheek, and behind him Hermione could just make out the shamble of the Great Hall. The once grand room was littered with bodies and broken tables and smashed glass; there was blood on the floor and she thought she saw a chunk of flesh – too coarse to belong to a human – settled behind what was left of the Hufflepuff table.

“Are you all alright?” Harry asked quietly and Hermione turned her gaze from beyond his shoulder to his face. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, demand that he make everything safe and better.

“We’re a little banged up and I think only a few of us need further medical care.” Eleanor said and her voice shook. Hermione took a deep breath as Harry stepped forward, letting their shoulders brush softly against each other, and she knew the time for acting like a child was over. He had too much to do for her to even think of giving him anything else to shoulder.

She let go of Ron’s hand slowly and turned to look about the room to assess the situation. They couldn’t stay here; the few students who had gone into shock were likely to lapse back into it with the Great Hall only steps away, never mind the claustrophobic feel of the room. One girl needed her leg set and most of them needed some pepper up if only to offset more of them going into shock. Most importantly, the castle was under siege and the students couldn’t be kept safe here – they needed their families and real safety.

“We should go to the infirmary, there’s a fireplace and potions that Eleanor could use.” Hermione said to Harry, who was kneeling before a Hufflepuff seventh year whose name Hermione couldn’t recall at the moment.

“There’s a side door that opens to a corridor close to it, we’ll use that. It’s behind that portrait.” Harry said, pointing to an empty frame. Its host must have gone to the Ministry.

Ron moved to push the portrait frame aside, reveling a doorway, and he helped little Christina Pyrites – one of the only first years sorted that year – to her feet and gently pushed her forward. Everyone shuffled out slowly, trembling or being led by friends or siblings. Neville picked up Rose Zeller, who whimpered and was crying by now, and carried her out.

Harry ended up leading them even though everyone knew the way. He had his wand at the ready and was tense, every step measured in a way that screamed to Hermione how upset and angry he still was. He had a way of moving when angry, as if all the rage inside his body was moments away from exploding out, and to tamp it down he held himself stiff. The castle was eerily silent and many of the portraits they passed were somber and some were openly weeping. A few of the painted figures were running through frames, talking to Harry quietly so as not to disturb the others, but Hermione could hear just fine that St. Mungo’s had fallen.

Harry pushed the infirmary doors open softly and Eleanor rushed past him, gathering potions and directing students to sit down. Draco was one of the ones who needed medical attention, for a laceration just under his collar bone. Hermione herself was fine, so she went over to stand next to Harry, who was still near the now closed doors of the infirmary.

“We need to get these students out of here.” Hermione said.

“The Ministry has fallen, that’s why a lot of portraits in that side room were empty. If they moved to a frame that was broken or under rubble, they’d be reduced to just paint on canvas. London is in chaos, not just the Magical part. The muggles are rioting and Parliament has declared martial law and a state of emergency. We need to gather our forces here, for one last push, and these children cannot be here. I’ve allowed Tom to do way too much and this… I won’t allow this. This ends now, no more.” Harry whispered to her softly and Hermione nodded, not sure what she wanted to address first. She wondered if her mother had a boy or girl and if they were alright. They had to be alright, she needed to believe they were alright.

“Shall we leave the students to die with their parents? Many of them might be orphans now.” Hermione whispered back, once she got her emotions under control.

“I don’t know, but they can’t stay here. This place is no longer safe for them.” Harry replied. The Phoenix song sounded then, lifting the mood and sending warmth through the room. In a blaze of fire, Fawkes appeared on Harry’s shoulder with a rolled up piece of parchment in his mouth. Some people screamed in fright, but quickly calmed when they saw the firebird.

“Is that from Professor Dumbledore?” Ron asked as both him and Draco walked over to them quickly. Harry took the parchment from Fawkes, unrolling it to read what was written on it.

“Albus reports that he and members of the Order of Phoenix are coming to us.” Harry announced to the room at large and people cried in relief and praised Merlin. Harry lowered his voice as he continued to just them three. “I’ve already raised the battle wards around this castle; Fawkes is their only way of getting in here. The house-elves can get the students out.”

Hermione took a deep breath before straightening her spine to address Harry.

“Ron and I can welcome them and explain the situation. We’ll help them plan an offense while you and Draco get these kids out of here.” Hermione said and Ron nodded next to her, both of them looking to Harry. Fawkes trilled before he moved from Harry’s shoulder to Ron’s. Harry procured a quill and turned the note from the Headmaster over to write something on it before handing it over to Hermione.

“Have Fawkes give this to Albus; Draco and I will get the students out.” Harry said. Ron and Hermione left quickly and Harry turned to the room at large. Everyone was staring at him, knowing something was happening even though they couldn’t hear all of the conversation.

“The final siege for this war is going to take place here; it’s the last stronghold we’ve got. The Ministry for Magic has fallen, the building itself was raised to the ground.” At this point many people started asking questions, about survivors, about family members, about where they were going to go, and Harry raised his voice to speak over them. “I have to get you out of here, or you will die. If you want to stay and fight, I welcome you to do that, but don’t feel obliged. Many of you have homes to go to, wards to barricade yourselves behind. For those of you who do, I encourage you to reach out to those that don’t. Help each other because once you are outside these walls, I can’t help any of you. You’ll be on your own.” Harry said loudly.

The students looked around at each other, fear and uncertainty one their faces as clear as day. Eleanor wwas just finishing up on healing Rose Zeller’s legs when Harry called the house elves into the room. Eleanor was already moving on to other students, healing cuts and bruises, and making them drink some pepper up. Cassiopeia, Rose’s older sister, came over to make sure Rose didn’t try to stand up before she needed to. The house elves all popped in quickly, little faces serious, with Dobby in front of them all, armed with a long knife.

“You called for us, Mr. Harry Potter, sir?” Dobby asked and Harry knelt down to talk to him as the students chattered behind him.

“I need a huge favor of all of you. We have to get these students out of here to safety. Can I trust you to help get them out of here and into their homes? Many of them lost their parents or guardians today.” Harry asked.

“We be happy to help. Many of the house elves will ask for bonds, but since we shall not coming back to Hogwarts it will be okay.” Dobby said in reply, not having to confer with the others. The fact that they could tell they wouldn’t be coming back to this castle made Harry want to scream and cry, but some things must be done for progress to happen. Harry nodded, standing up and facing the students again. Warren Vaisey was standing in front him, expression pinched and face pale.

“My mother and uncle are outside. I know they are.” He said softly and Harry reached up to grip his shoulder. “My little brother…” Vaisey choked on the words, eyes watering.

“I know.” Harry said.

“My uncle is the Head of our house now that my dad is dead and I just… I don’t have anywhere to go.” He continued.

“Your _head of house_? He left you and your baby brother here to die – he knew his Lord would require him to lay siege to this place and he left you to rot here. He’s not worthy of the title of Head of Family. He didn’t protect his name or legacy.” Draco snarled vehemently, moving forward. “ _You_ are the heir of the family, you’re the future, and that man _left you to die_.” He continued, his magic just as furious as he was.

Harry was angry too, a building fury that he used to center his magic, because he was fed up and _furious_. All those people out there dared to call themselves the heads of their clans? When many of them had _children_ in this castle? Fuck that, he was going to strip those rights and duties from them and give them to the ones here, because _fuck them_. 

He remembered how inheritance rights worked and you didn’t need a ritual circle for someone to step up and take control of their family line and legacy, not if magic deemed them worthy enough to become the next Head. And in this case, Warren had a great case for him – his grief over his brother was real and the pain and rage in his eyes was sincere. His Head of Family wasn’t living up to the most basic of duties: safeguarding the bloodline and name. Warren was the only one worthy to be his family’s head of house.

“Warren, would you be prepared to take care of your family’s name, line, and legacy?” Harry asked quietly, magic clinging to the words and the air around them grew heavy with it. Vaisey swallowed and he must know what Harry was doing; he would have been raised with tales of sons stripping their fathers of their roles in times of need. How could he not know?

“Better than my Uncle Ezra has.” Vaisey said softly and his magic swirled around him, lifting his hair and Harry felt vicious victory sing through his bones at it. “I swear on my name, on my legacy, on my magic that I am prepared to take this responsibility from my uncle, for he has failed our family.” Vaisey continued and his tears rolled off his chin to fade into soft white light. The boy’s magic settled around his shoulders like a robe and on his right hand a ring appeared, fading into existence with a finality that settled into Vaisey’s skin.

He looked no different from moments before, but the feel of him was telling enough. Vaisey covered his mouth, wiping at his face, and then he turned around.

“I can feel my manor’s ancestral wards now. I have enough room for three other people. It’s not much, but it’s what I got. I don’t care about your bloodline or your parent’s views or your name.” He announced and immediately Christina Pyrites walked over to him. She looked even smaller than usual next to him, her little hand tucked into his, and it was sobering to realize that she had truly lost everything. Eleven years old and her entire family was gone – even her twin.

Cassiopeia Zeller stood from where she was sitting next to her little sister Rose and helped the girl to her feet. Her leg was set and in ideal circumstances she wouldn’t use it for at least the rest of the day to make sure the bones stayed that way, but these weren’t ideal circumstances. Supporting her sister, they both went to stand over by Vaisey. All three of the girls that were choosing to go with him were half-bloods, two Slytherins and one Hufflepuff, and Cassiopeia was the oldest at 14 going on 15.

A house elf broke from the group and stepped up to Vaisey, looking up at him solemnly.

“Yous be concentrating on the wards, gets them to let us in. I do the rest.” Her little voice squeaked out and Vaisey nodded, reaching out to hold Cassiopeia’s hand and make sure she was still holding onto her sister. The elf gripped his robes and closed her eyes and before they popped away, Vaisey turned back to Harry.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I won’t be coming back.” He said and they were gone.

“I thought to claim your inheritance there was blood involved.” Nina Delnormia said faintly.

“Not if you’re taking the title from someone your family’s magic deems unworthy of being the Head of the Family. These rituals were used on rapists, child molesters, and the like; it was necessary to be able to take the title without being in the same vicinity. Thus no blood, just a straight-forward shifting of responsibilities.” Blaise said, as he had Amy and Valerie Moon standing with him. “My parents are behind the ancestral wards, have been since the summer. These two don’t have anywhere to go so I’m going to introduce them to my parents and then come back.” He explained.

An older elf wearing a clean tea-cozy and sporting a clipped ear stepped forward to take hold of Blaise’s hand without a word. The sisters grabbed a hold of Blaise’s robes quickly and the elf popped them away.

Nina Delnormia stepped forward and wrung her hands in front of her while Astoria Greengrass towed Ian Harper and Dennis Creevey over to a house elf. A rather old and round elf reached up to take Greengrass’ hand and they vanished with a loud pop. Harry knew as they left that Astoria was the new head of her family, her parents no doubt lying under rubble somewhere in London whereas her older sister was still in the Great Hall.

“I don’t know where my parents are, but I know they’re currently not in the country. I have my little sister to consider and I’m not wasting any more time by trying to get an elf to them so they can open the wards for us. They left us here, alone, in a war zone. I can forgive them for it, I can understand their reasons – they’re trying to make sure they have a place for us all - but right now my priority is my little sister. She doesn’t deserve to die here, trapped like a rat, because our parents are trying to act like they have more time than they do to make a safe haven for us.” She said quietly.

“I understand. But in this, you can’t give it back, you know that, don’t you? If you take this, it’s yours forever; are you willing to take those responsibilities unto yourself?” Harry asked, feeling magic run between them thickly.

“I swear on my name, on my legacy, on my magic that I am prepared to take this responsibility from my mother, for she has failed our family. I forgive her for it and hold no grudge but I cannot allow her to keep the title when our line is at stake.” Delnormia said firmly and her magic snapped against his, rolling back to push against Nina. Her cheeks gained a healthy bit of red while her hair deepened in color and when she breathed out, she stood straighter.

“Crux, come. Laura, Orla, you two as well.” Nina said with authority and her little sister rushed forward, Laura Madley and Orla Quirke following after her uncertainly. Nina curled one of her arms around Crux’s shoulder and reached her other hand out for an elf. Winky stepped forward and when their hands touched, Winky smiled and they were gone the next instant.

Amell Voultei hugged Ginny and Luna briefly before she went to a young elf that was wearing a colorful tea-cozy. Diana Dodderidge hugged Eleanor, whispering something that made the other girl tear up, before she rushed to Amell’s side. They popped away.

“Harry, would you think me a coward if I left?” Susan Bones asked quietly as she stepped up to stand before him, shaking and pale. Harry took her hands gently before answering her.

“No. And even if I did, screw what I think, you do what’s best for you. If you have other options, you should take them.” Harry told her and she squeezed his hands.

“I’m the Head of my family now. My aunt was no doubt defending the Ministry… Anyway, I can feel that my manor here is gone, its been razed to the ground. But there’s something small and mine in Russia. I’m taking Su Li with me. I just wanted to say thank you, for thinking of us, for devising a way to get us out of here.” She said and let go of him to go to Su Li who was waiting for her with an elf; they left without a backwards glance.

Blaise popped back in, a battle axe attached to his hip and wand at the ready. The house elf that went with him walked back to the remaining circle of ten or so house elves that were left.

“Last call to leave, this goes for you lot too.” Harry said, directing the last bit to the house elves. Ginny and Luna didn’t even look at him, already too engrossed in gathering potions in smaller vials for the upcoming battle and making sure they were secured to their robes.

“My entire family is outside.” Sadelle Fawcett said softly, catching his attention. She didn’t look scared. “I don’t want a title, I just want them dead.” She continued in the same soft voice, expression blank. He wondered if she was planning on outliving them or not, and then decided he couldn’t think about that.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ernie MacMillian said simply. Five house elves popped away, hiding their eyes in apparent shame.

“Hermione and Ron took the Order of the Phoenix to the transfiguration classroom. Guess we should go meet them.” Draco said. Harry took his hand and for a moment the unnerving silence of the castle seemed alright.

But only for a moment.

* * *

Harry broke off from the group at the door to the transfiguration classroom. He had to seek out the Bloody Baron as he would know the answers to some of Harry’s remaining questions – like where Voldemort’s last horcrux was.

Once upon a time, Harry taught the Baron as a boy. He was among the second set of children accepted into Hogwarts, one of Godric’s many nephews. He took his mother’s title of Baron when he reached his majority and was going to marry Helena, Rowana’s eldest daughter. In an argument that Harry no longer remembered the root of, Helena ran off with her mother’s diadem, the crown she had been given by some centaurs (the very same clan that spawned the current clans of the centaurs in the forbidden forest), and her mother sent the Baron after her. He killed Helena and then killed himself in a flight of grief, coming back to Hogwarts to haunt her halls as punishment for his crime. And ever since, he always knew where the diadem was – even the few times it fell out of the Ravenclaw family line.

He found the Baron in front of some windows on the third floor, staring out with a grim expression.

“Please tell me Rowena’s diadem is somewhere in this castle still. Or even better that it was never used as a grounding piece for a ripped apart piece of soul.” Harry said, coming to a stop behind the ghost.

“Of course it was; you know just as well as I do that boy wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to throw a piece of himself into it in his desperation.” Baron Hector said softly. He turned away from the window, floating closer to stand before Harry. “It’s not here, Saldis, hasn’t been since it was taken by Horde Kara in 1906. And I’m sorry to say this, but it looks like you have more pressing matters to attend to, such as the army on this castle’s doorsteps. The castle has called Peeves back, as it does when war comes to her doors – Riddle is outside, markings on the ground and power in the air. You’re out of time.” He said, bending down to look Harry in the eye.

“I have watched you come through these halls for centuries now, always with a different face – different skin, different blood, different gender, different names, for centuries you have returned to these halls, drawn here like a moth to a flame. I thought I was destined to linger here forever, to always be near Helena but never see her again, tortured by her presence, her closeness. But over these last ten centuries I have come to pity you a great deal, former teacher of mine. You are just as trapped here as I am. You are out of time – and when Riddle’s forces wipe you all out, you will come back to these halls with a new face, a new name, a new ethnicity and try again, won’t you? Of course you will; you’re unable to do anything else.” Hector said, taking a mean kind of pleasure in his words.

Harry turned away from him, walking quickly back down to the ground level, Hector’s laughter echoing behind him. He was wrong, if that diadem was outside as Harry fears it was… if Tom got that last piece of himself back, Erus would rip through him and awaken, nothing else holding it back. He’d destroy everything, starting with this castle because it would hurt Harry the most and Erus existed to hurt him now. Erus would hollow out Voldemort’s corpse, sweep his magic in front of him like a veil and kill everyone in sight. It was his nature to destroy and feed off of it, he knew nothing of limitations or sustainability – he would eat and eat and eat until there was nothing left.

The very thought was terrifying.

He came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the last set of stairs and realized he had no idea what to do.

* * *

The secret passageway smelled of stale air and mold – it was damp and dark in an unforgiving way. It was hard to imagine that it was connected to the castle at all, but she supposed that was only natural. She knew when they passed the castle’s main wards. The popping of her ears gave it away, and between one breath and the next the air was thicker, more oppressive, and the echo of their footsteps louder.

Her brothers – the twins – were leading them, wands at the ready. They hadn’t received word about Bill and their parents, or Charlie, but she believed they were safe. She had to believe they were. The pathway they’re on should come out near the lake, behind the army, and hopefully they’ll have the element of surprise on their side. They certainly don’t have numbers after all.

Luna’s hand touched the small of her back briefly and when she turned to look at her, Luna smiled at her briefly. There was a sharp turn and then there was light coming in from a small opening, covered by moss and long grass. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and then they were spilling out, firing spells at the Death Eaters and fanning out to try and make their numbers seem larger. She moved quickly, flinging curses and hexes to anyone wearing a mask, and kept Luna in her sights.

It didn’t take long for the other half of their forces to come pouring out from a side door of the castle, able to come out because the army was concentrating on her group. She felt Ron more than she saw him and dodged a killing curse; moving put her right in the path of a cutting curse and it hit her left leg sharply. It put her down onto her knees and she threw a curse – one of the ones Harry taught her, all intent and the sensation of heat through her veins – and the Death Eater dropped, whether dead or incapacitated she didn’t know. If they had a weak heart, it would have erupted, but if it was healthy then all it would have done was lurch unpleasantly, enough to knock the breath out of someone and send them into a painful unconsciousness momentarily. She kept moving, following a few steps behind Luna, determined not to lose sight of her.

Draco and Blaise were fighting to her left, up against four opponents, and she flung a blood boiling curse at the back of one Death Eater. They screamed in agony and went down. Blaise swung his battleaxe through a Death Eater's neck, and Draco swung his wand in a complicated pattern and the remaining two shrank into themselves, folding like paper, bones snapping and blood bursting out of them. She felt like throwing up but tried to ignore it – they’re fighting for their lives, they’re allowed to do things like that.

In the battle of Hogsmeade, Ginny’s objective was clear: protect the other students and children, stall for the Aurors to get there, get as many children to safety and keep them that way. This was not like that – she was not stalling, there was no one else coming, and she didn’t know what she’d do if they lost. If the Order went under, if her brothers fell to this army, if Harry died… what would she do? Allow herself to be captured? Kill herself and Luna? Run? And if they won, what then? How would they win this... if every last person with the Dark Mark was dead? If Voldemort was dead? It felt like they were missing so many people, how would they possibly rebuild?

The twins appeared at her side, Fred throwing a corkscrew at a cluster of Death Eaters, and they cast a shield before the corkscrew imploded. A leg – ripped off just under the kneecap – splatted against the shield and fell to the ground in front of them with a squelch. There was a moment of shock and then some seven Death Eaters converged on them, yelling and cursing them, spells flying everywhere. She got hit in the face with a bludgeoning curse, the pain impacted her cheek bones and flesh hard enough that she whimpered as she was thrown back a few steps. She could feel the headache coming on and counted herself lucky that the caster was weak. She fired off a folding charm at one of them and heard bones crack as their chest flexed unnaturally before bending backwards with an almighty crunch and spurt of bones and blood. She didn’t know that would work that way but found herself grateful that it did. She ran, dancing out of the way of bright green lights and sparkling purple.

Something slammed into her side, hard enough to lift her off her feet and send her flying, and when she hit the ground it was with a grunt. She was pretty sure that some of her skin was rubbed off.

“Little birdie not dancing anymore?” Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice rang out, sugary sweet and high pitched. Ginny tried to sit up but her side ached and made it difficult. “Maybe I can show her how to dance again? _Cruico!_ ”

The pain that radiated through her body was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was like every pain she’d ever had amplified to a billion, everything hurt. Her bones, her skin, the back of her eyes, even her hair seemed to be wailing in agony – she couldn’t breathe through the screams. It cut off abruptly, leaving her shaking and crying on the ground. Sound came back to her in stages – first the ringing in her ears, then the muffled crackle of magic around her, and then her own crying, muffled by the grass. She sniffed, holding herself up and standing through sheer force of will – her legs felt like jelly and her head ached more than ever, but she was on her feet.

Neville was standing near her, guarding her as she got her bearings again, and at his feet was Bellatrix’s body – a massive tree root protruded out of her mouth and it looked like it had burrowed in through her lower back.

“Thank you.” Ginny said to him. Neville nodded to her and fired off a tripping jinx at a Death Eater who fell face first onto a broken branch that was protruding out of the ground in front of them – the branch was sticking out of their head so it was safe to say they were down permanently. Ginny flung a fire curse out, watching as it caught three Death Eaters and devoured them in flames.

“Luna’s over by Hermione, over there!” Neville shouted, pointing towards Hagrid’s hut where Hermione and Luna were back to back and fighting against ten opponents. Hagrid himself was laying still on the ground.

“Thanks!” Ginny shouted as she went off in that direction. Hermione was in her element here, magic flowing around her and Luna as she brought her enemies down. Luna herself was able to stand still and take out Death Eaters that would try to attack Hermione from behind. They looked like they had practiced this stuff before, though Ginny knew they hadn’t.

She got to them just as seven massive trolls lumbered out of the forest, each one branded on the chest with a still bleeding Dark Mark and their clubs sparked with magic and light. One of them swung the massive club and it caught Ernie Macmillan right in the head, knocking the boy some distance until he smacked into a tree. Three of the people fighting near him, only one of which was a Death Eater, were smoking where they lay. She hadn’t seen what happened to them, had been concentrating on Ernie, but they looked severely burned and she supposed that was what the clubs did when swung near you. That was some nasty magic.

She tried to recall all that she was taught about trolls – their skin was tough, they weren’t smart creatures, and their bones were hollow which allowed for their growth. The blood boiling curse and _intra liquescens_ – the bone marrow curse – would probably be the best spells for downing them. Hermione grabbed her as the troll swung their direction, yanking her back roughly.

“If you know the bone marrow curse, cast it with me on three!” Hermione ordered and started to count, dodging a Death Eaters curse and anothe’s kick. On three they both fired at the troll nearest to them, hitting it in the stomach. It paused for a moment, grunted, and then howled. The club hit the ground first, light flickering out and then the troll was on the ground, bellowing, it’s kneecaps quite broken. Within seconds of it being down its eyes started to leak a clear substance and then it was still and silent.

Hermione didn’t bother cheering or giving Ginny a smile, just barked out the command to follow her as she went after the other six. Ginny obeyed her without much thought, snapping to her side to run alongside her. The second one went down much like the first, only they hit it from behind and Ginny sent a tidal wave of water at some Death Eaters, pulled up from the nearby lake, effectively drowning them. By the fourth troll, it was becoming apparent that the Death Eaters were trying to kill them in earnest, trying to keep the trolls angry and able to kill as many Order members as possible. Hermione at one point threw herself atop Ginny to get them out of the path of two killing curses then shoot up and whirled, fired off the killing curse, and didn’t even pause when the person she hit died on the spot right in front of them.

The last two trolls were working together, clubs swinging as Ron, Neville, some adults Ginny didn’t know, and Sadelle Fawcett fought off them and Death Eaters alike. Sadelle was missing a hand, and one of the twins was missing an ear while the other was favoring his left side. One of the adults had a bloody face.

Hermione announced her presence by flinging the bone marrow curse out – her voice musical and loud on the incantation – right at the back of one of the trolls. It swung around with a shout, swinging at them. Ginny veered right, hoping she was far enough away that whatever magic was around it wouldn’t catch her, but Hermione jumped right up and somehow managed to land on the club itself. Ginny watched in amazement as the older girl transfigured something – a piece of hair or something equally small – into a dagger and ran up the club, jumped onto the huge creature’s shoulder and stabbed it in the eye. It bellowed and swung widely around, its club catching the other troll in the face and both of them caught fire so suddenly it was a shock. Ron cried as the trolls fell in a burning heap.

“HERMIONE!” Ron shouted again, jumping forward, but Neville and one of the twins – it looked like Fred was the one with the missing ear – held him back. From the flames Hermione jumped out, rolling on the ground to try and extinguish the fire caught in her hair. Ron surged out of Fred and Neville’s hold, grabbed up the dagger and cut away the burning robes and hair. Hermione came out coughing and wearing her school skirt and the pressed blouse they wear under their robes and her hair was hacked off around the chin, uneven and jagged. Ginny stared at her in amazement – only Hermione could do something so insane and live through it.

Just then, the ground shook and the sound around them muted for a few moments before a gust of pure magic threw them all to the ground, noise roaring in their ears. She felt Harry’s magic, strong and bubbling, and when she looked towards the castle there was a huge snake made out of blue flames that was rushing out of the castle doors. The Death Eaters caught didn’t have time to scream.

Harry had joined them at last.

* * *

Harry walked down the steps of the castle with slow, measured steps, his wand held in front of him to direct the flame-basilisk. The doors closed behind him with a bang and Harry swished his wand sharply, the flames dying out and the fire-basilisk vanishing.

There was a ritual circle scorched into the ground near the tree line, bared for his sight and now unprotected. It was a circle with seven stars inside it, spaced equally from each other, and runes were drawn in the dirt around the circle. Rowena’s diadem was placed at the center while Voldemort himself stood in front; facing Harry with such hate and aggression in his face that Harry knew he would have flinched if he were weaker.

When he stepped onto the ground, he could feel the faint echo of the magic from it, the void that he felt from Magicks of Heaven, the sense of unease and the urge to vomit for a brief moment. He supposed it made sense that a Magicks of Heaven ritual would be the thing to force a soul back together, since dark arts were the ones to rip it apart.

“Harry Potter… come to die alongside his last pathetic attempt at a resistance. They’ve killed a few trolls, held their own against my army, but I wonder, boy, how they would last with you dead at my feet?” Voldemort asked, voice soft. It carried across the small distance, even as the battle around them raged and people were shouting left and right.

‘ _He always was good at making sure he could be heard in a crowd.’_ Harry thought to himself and took a breath. Voldemort looked thin and his skin was sunken and pale, like he hadn’t seen enough sunlight or eaten enough. His eyes, burning red as they were, looked larger, slightly swollen and his lips cracked. His hands were covered in dirt, mud, and who knows what else while his robes were tattered and filthy. He had blood smeared across his forehead. He had a nose but it looked more like a snout than anything made to be on a human's face.

“I’m sorry, Tom, that I’ve allowed this to go on as long as I have and that this even happened. It’s all wrong.” Harry said, just as softly because this wasn’t meant to be heard by everyone. He had failed Tom, he knew that now, and Tom deserved an apology for that. Harry had promised, once, to take care of him, to help him grow into his potential and he failed. Aife had failed Tom.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Voldemort spat at him, jabbing his wand forward and Harry dodged to the left. Voldemort cast again, wordless and Harry dropped to the ground, rolling just in time to get out of the way of a second curse.

Albus’ voice, clear and loud, rang out. Voldemort swirled his wand in a spiral before jabbing it in front of him and whatever Albus cast split in half to crash into a tree and some Order members nearby. They cried out in agony, blood coming out of their mouths and noses before they fell to other curses.

“It’s over, Tom! Look what you’ve done, isn’t this enough? What’s the point of ruling over a kingdom of corpses?” Albus bellowed, moving his wand through the air with heavy movements and agile fingers. Twin bolts of lightning shot out of his wand to hit Voldemort straight in the chest. Harry threw his own spells into the mix, trying to get Voldemort away from the ritual circle. If he was out of proximity he couldn’t go through with it. If they killed the body he was in currently and destroyed the horcrux, Erus would be trapped again. Maybe permanently. It was the best option at this point and Harry threw everything he could into getting him away from that damn circle.

Albus cast the bloodletting curse just as Voldemort cast the killing curse while Harry threw a fire spell into the mix. All three spells collided in the center somewhere and ricocheted off into the distance. The bloodletting curse hit the back of a duelist, and they went down, while the killing curse and fire curse hit Albus straight on. He was dead before he hit the ground, corpse smoking. From the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of black hair and then Sirius tackled Voldemort, roaring and screaming as he pointed his wand right in Voldemort’s face.

The ritual circle glowed and there was a horrible screeching as the wind seemed to flow inwards, towards the center of the circle. Sirius was thrown back into Harry and they both hit the ground hard, Harry’s head smacking against a rock hard enough to make him see spots.

“ _This is my son, Saliar, isn’t he beautiful?”_

Harry grunted, trying to stay awake but the world was spinning and there was so much light magic it was making him want to hurl. The ritual must be taking shape, meaning that everything is about to get so much worse and he can’t just lie here lost like this.

“ _Merlin! Merlin, answer me this instant! MERLIN! Where is he, my lady, where is he?!” Demesstria was in a panic, fires all around them as the guard and invaders clashed in the streets. Her hair had come out of its braided bun and her robes were muddied at the bottom._

_There was a flash of auburn curls out of the corner of her eye and she happened to turn just in time to catch sight of little Ambrosius ducking back into his house, a few barbarians on his heels._

“ _I’ve got him, stay close to the guard!” She shouted to her frantic friend and gave chase._

His godfather was dead and he saw Remus’ body earlier; he didn’t see him get cut down but he saw his broken body on the field. He’d tried to pretend he didn’t notice or didn’t see but he did and now he truly had no parents. The ones that bore him were dead and the ones he chose were dead as well. Sirius talked to him about children, taking to the idea that one day he’d have grandkids with grace and glee while Remus would think of ways to sneak the theoretical children treats. They were gone.

“ _Ambrosius!” She shouted, firing a curse at the back of one of the men towering over the boy. The other swung his sword in her direction, which she barely dodged and then she was driving her own sword down into the flesh between his neck and shoulder. Ambrosius watched with wide eyes and she threw herself at him, grabbing him up, and dashing back towards the stairs just as fire shot up them._

_She redirected herself and leapt through the window, landing on her feet and rolling onto her knees hard._

‘ _Merlin’s last heir is gone, too.’_ He thought to himself, dazed still and reeling. The last reminder he had of the boy he once knew, raised, mentored, saw grow up, went to war alongside was gone. Salazar’s last descendant was being devoured as he lay here in a daze, the last Black heir dead atop him, and many of the bloodlines he was familiar with were dead across the field. The world was changing, always changing, and he never changed with it, not really.

“Harry! Harry, I swear to the heavens you better not be not dead under there, Harry!” Draco’s frantic voice called out and Harry shoved Sirius’ body off, feeling lightheaded and woozy, and Draco came into sharp focus.

“You’d feel it if I was dead.” Harry said blankly while Draco came up to steady him.

A circular radius around the ritual circle was littered with bodies and the air tasted foul from the taint of the Magicks of Heaven ritual. The body that was once Voldemort stood stock still, its face bubbled, skin rearranging itself. The faint echo of screams picked up in the wind and Voldemort’s skin changed, broiling and peeling away, like a snake’s discarded husk. As the blood and muscle was clear to the eye, something started to grow out of the mass of blood and viscera – the light hitting it made whatever it was gleam like gems or scales.

“What the hell is happening?” Blaise asked, battleaxe held up, magic sparking around the still dripping blade. Harry wondered if the boy even had his wand anymore. Did it break or get lost?

“Who’s left?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes on Voldemort’s body. By this time. the body’s barly there nose and lips had fallen off and his head was elongating, making him look even more unnatural and serpentine. Especially since it was becoming more apparent that he was in fact growing scales in place of his skin.

“The twins, Fawcett, a few people I didn’t get the name of, and the rest of the DA.” Draco said. “What’s our play here?” Draco continued. Harry looked out across the field and the scattered people, thinking.

“Master!” One of the Death Eaters cried out and the magic that had been in the air, twisting around Erus as he transformed, settled over him. For a moment there was stillness and silence and Harry found himself holding his breath, hoping that maybe something went wrong. Maybe the gods decided on mercy for once and it went wrong –

Four Death Eaters closest to Erus melted in on themselves, their skin and bones liquefying so suddenly they didn’t have time to scream. Erus stepped out of the ritual circle and grabbed Augustus Rookwood who was unfortunate enough to be standing too close and yanked his head back by the hair, mouth sinking into the meaty portions of his neck. Rookwood screamed and tries to hit Erus with his arm, but the limb broke apart at the elbow like a rag doll being pulled apart. The blood from the wound didn’t trickle to the floor, instead flowing up towards Erus’ mouth.

The Death Eaters went into a frenzy, chaos descending as some charged their former Master while others ran for the tree line. Dementors were waiting for them, quick to wrap themselves around the fleeing Death Eaters and clamp their mouths around their victim’s faces.

_The first sign that something was wrong was not the screaming or the burning of the city – it was her soldiers, her own men, arresting her for treason. Her – the woman who defended Rome against all evil, who made the enemies of Rome quake in their boots; who went forward with words of peace on her tongue and trade deals in her hands; the woman who coined the phrase ‘surrender or face annihilation’ –_ _**her** _ _arrested for treason. Dragged into some dungeons like a common criminal._

_She killed the first man who thought to lay hands on her, to try and torture her like she was a traitor._

Hermione and Ron leapt into action, both of them erecting a powerful shield around their little cluster. The wartime wards might have been weaker outside than within the castle, but that didn’t mean apperating out here was possible. They’d have to go into the forest and risk the Dementors or make for the iron gates past the lake. The Giant Squid hadn’t done much this fight, bar yanking anyone who got too close to the water down to their death, and the Dementors were just as equal in their feeding – anyone who ran towards the forest was fair game.

_She kicked the boy away from her, the little knife in her hand hardly a weapon at all, but she needed it not. Her magic whipped around her and she could feel everything. They had killed him, they killed him,_ _**they killed him, theykilledhimtheykilledhim** _ _._

_There were bodies in the street and she didn’t care, stepped over them unseeing –_

_Deaddeaddeaddead_

_She was going to kill Merlin, how dare he, how_ _**dare he?!** _

“We need to retreat!” Draco shouted over the renewed screaming and sound of fighting.

“England’s been taken and our boarders have been sealed off!” Ginny said frantically, looking young and pale. It was easy to forget that it had only been a few years since she had been possessed and laying pale and still on stone, down deep in the Chamber of Secrets.

“I’m going to London.” Harry said. “The wards extend to the iron gates and once you get past them, apperation and portkeys are possible. Better that way than attempting the forest.” He continued and before anyone could reply he turned to make for the gates. He wasn’t sure what he would do in London, if anything at all, but he needed to be away from here. Needed some space to think.

It didn’t take long for him to get to the gates, the Death Eaters were distracted and fighting among themselves and he barely needed to defend himself as he ran.

“ _I give you a secret, along with my cloak. Your sister lives yet, I couldn’t kill her. She’s with Lucian’s pack.” She said, swaying on her feet, a smile stretching across her lips. “You will die of your wounds before you see her again.”_

_She stood on the bridge as laughed as Merlin’s youngest son fell to his knees, coughing up blood. How foolish they all were, these sons that asked her for more and more and more and never bothered to apologize for their father’s actions. They did not even seem grieved for it. The eldest wanted more power and more knowledge, and the twins had always been more concerned with each other than anything and anyone else._

_Only one child of Merlin would live this day, just the girl-child._

He apperated.

* * *

He popped back into existence behind the Leaky Caldron in an out of the way ally. Moments later, Hermione and Ron appeared a few feet away, looking around for Harry. Ginny, Luna, and Eleanor popped in next, the little group hurrying to Harry’s side. Hermione threw herself at him, gasping out a dry sob against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her gently as Blaise and Draco followed after.

The streets were quiet in the way abandoned towns were – air sweeping through empty space with a confused hiss. There was smoke billowing from the east and the Leaky Caldron itself looked like it had been under siege. The twins and Neville appeared at last and hurried over.

“Do we have a plan?” Neville asked Harry.

“For once, no.” Harry said honestly. He leaned against the wall behind him, bringing Hermione with him. Draco stepped up beside him, slipping his hand into Harry’s and reaching out to touch Hermione’s hair gently. The girl wasn’t crying or even shaking, she just tucked herself close. “All my plans were geared towards preventing what happened. I’m quite out of plans at this point.”

“England is a lost cause. We need to leave the country – last I checked the rest of Europe was gearing up for defensive war. No one will accept us, not if we go through official channels.” Hermione said, pulling away from Harry a bit to angle herself to be heard.

“I can get to Bill in Egypt – I have a portkey for emergencies – I’m taking my siblings with me.” George said firmly. Fred was leaning on his shoulder, looking pained.

“Harry, where are you going?” Ginny asked, as if her brother hadn’t spoken at all.

“He’s going to France. I have a villa there, I can get us there now that – that… We’re going to France.” Draco said, stumbling over the words when he tried to speak of his father’s fate. There was an echo of pain, like the touch of warmth from a fire.

“Luna and Eleanor are welcome with my family. We’re probably going to be moving to the apartments in Spain, given what just happened.” Blaise spoke up. Hermione looked up at Harry, stepping away to take Ron’s hand.

“I’m going with Ron, maybe I can salvage this using the information in Egypt.” Hermione said and Harry nodded at her.

“Hermione, here's a way to contact me. If you need it. I'm leaving the country too.” Neville said, stepping forward to push something into Hermione's hand – probably a piece of transfigured parchment with his information written down.

“Good luck, everyone.” Neville said and popped away.

‘ _I failed, again. Almost two thousand years and I still can’t beat Erus.’_

Ron and Hermione went over to the twins, grabbing Ginny on their way, and then they were gone. Eleanor had to lead Luna to Blaise, who spared one last look at Draco and Harry, before they were gone too.

“I had two thousand years to try and make sure this didn’t happen. _Two thousand years_.” Harry whispered, the burn behind his nose and eyes giving way to small lines of warmth on his cheeks.

“You tried – “

“I failed! I did nothing! I shut my eyes and pretended that Erus wouldn’t waken someday. I did this, I didn’t protect Tom and I let this happen. This is my fault.” Harry said, crying and not caring if that made him foolish or weak. He looked at Draco, stricken. “Merlin’s last heir is gone, his last son… I thought I would _feel_ something, feel… vindicated or, or… but I don’t. He’s just gone. And Salazar’s last heir, Tom was so much like him and now… now he’s gone too. Albus is dead, Sirius is dead, Remus is dead, Tom has been devoured and I… I don’t know what to do!” He finished, shouting and clutching at Draco’s hand like it was the last remaining stable thing he had. Draco gathered him up in a hug, holding him close and stoking his back.

Between one sob and the next, the air twisted around them and spat them out somewhere else. He clung to Draco, sobbing into his shoulder. There was nothing else he could do now.


	19. Chapter 19

Draco slipped out of the room he and Harry were sharing quietly. The wireless was on in the little kitchenette, droning on about the situation in the United Kingdom. He turned it up just a notch as he gathered some eggs and peppers to scramble up an omelet. One of the first things he did upon coming here was to release the one house elf that served the small cottage – his first act as Head of his Family was realizing that he only had one house elf and one piece of property left, so he figured it was fitting.

It had taken the rest of the world a few devastating weeks to truly understand the severity of the situation they all found themselves in. The entire United Kingdom was pretty much on its way to becoming a wasteland. Whole cities were little more than ghost towns, buildings and homes abandoned and bodies littering the streets. And yet, the situation for the muggles was apparently more dire than it was for the wizards, as a nuclear warhead had gone off when Erus leveled London to the ground. It was only through dumb luck that it didn’t trigger any of the others. Draco may have been a pureblood, but even he knew what a nuke was – and even if the radiation didn’t affect his kind the way it did the muggles, it still wasn’t a good thing to have one just go off willy-nilly like that.

“From what we have been able to see from afar, the only thing left of London is an archway standing tall among the ruins. The muggles have declared England as a country to be no more, with Ireland and Scotland reportedly suffering from widespread deaths from the radiation poisoning. The United Nations and the International Confederation of Wizards are currently in meetings for the first time since the formation of the muggles' United Nations. Little is known about what they are discussing or planning. Reports from all around the world have confirmed that previously unheard of numbers of Dark Creatures have been sighted by both magical and muggle communities at large and many of them are migrating towards the U.K. I have been asked to specify that these creatures are all the sort without human blood in them, as there have been reports of lynching of werewolves and an increase in staking of vampires. I repeat: The Dark Creatures that are flocking towards the UK are not the kind that take the form of humans.” The report droned on in the background and Draco flipped the eggs over.

“The birds rip the stomachs of cats open.” Harry said from the doorway suddenly, voice distant and flat. Draco turned the fire off before he turned his attention to Harry.

His hair was unbound and tangled, hanging down his back and about his face. His face looked gaunt, eyes sunken in and there were scratch marks around them from when he had previously tried to gauge them out in a fit. Harry had been… unwell, since being brought here after the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was now called. He’s hardly the only one though, since the world’s Seers had been reported as going slightly sideways ever since Erus awoke. Erus was such an abnormality that seers from every stretch of land were experiencing too much backlash from the worlds – there was too much death for them, too many futures changing all at once, too many voices in their heads all of a sudden. It wasn't particularly comforting to know that Harry wasn't alone in his suffering.

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll bring you some food.” Draco said gently, steering Harry to the small table with three chairs sitting near some stained French doors with sunlight streaming through them. Harry let himself be prodded along, lips moving wordlessly. It was coming close to a full month since they had fled England and Harry was still drifting like this, not himself. Draco cut the omelet he made into bite sized bits and sat next to Harry to coax him into eating some of it.

Sometimes he ate, other times he took a few bites only to choke as he started to talk and wasn’t able to stop. It wasn’t always English. Sometimes strings of Gealic and Latin came from him, other times it was Sumarian that Draco had to wrack his brain to understand, and a few times he spoke in a language Draco had no hope of understanding. Once, he spoke in Parseltongue only to switch to German mid-word. No matter what language he used though, the actual content he said didn’t make much, if any, sense at all.

He wished his parents were alive and here with him, if only for some support. His mother would know how to make sure Harry got enough food, even if he had a fit or a handful of too many visions all jumbled together. His father would be able to help him with researching ways to get through to Harry, and Severus would be about to be one more set of eyes as he looked over all the information he was getting from various people and groups about the state of things. But they weren’t here, they were gone and lost to him. He was still getting used to the idea that his father and Severus weren’t just in the other room or in another country, that they were gone and dead and he had to leave their bodies on a battlefield or join them.

“City of crows, city of monsters, always gone.” Harry murmured and broke off to mutter in Parseltongue. Draco reached out to pet his hair gently, trying not to despair.

Maybe tomorrow Harry would return to him.

* * *

Blaise’s father was dying. Eleanor wasn’t sure how the hell Blaise was able to hold up so well - better than she would be if her own father was wasting away right in front of her. Then again, maybe she’d manage it better under these circumstances as well – after all, her parents abandoned her. Would she really care all that much if they were dying in front of her? Or would she just be angry?

Either way, Blaise was a great host given the situation they were in. His mother was still alive, but what with tending to her husband, everything else was left to Blaise. It was he who rescued the Moon sisters from the battle, tucking them away in his manor back in England; he who, when after he returned to fight found only defeat staring back at him, directed their move to Spain; he who opened up his home to them, to a group of rebels and runaways.

The older, if magically modified apartments weren’t that large: four rooms and a small kitchenette with two bathrooms, but they were enough for them. Valerie and Amy Moon shared a room while Eleanor and Luna shared another; Blaise himself slept in the living room and without complaint or even the suggestion of it having ever bothered him. He separated his time between his parents, the day to day running of the apartments, news and letters to and from various peoples, and making certain Amy still got an education for when Valerie reached a gap in her own knowledge. They worked well together, Blaise and Valerie.

“Ellie, you hungry?” Luna asked as she came into their shared room, dressed in her school skirt and a blouse that looked like it was shrunk to fit her, most likely from Blaise’s mother’s closet. Eleanor herself was wearing her school shirt and skirt, both freshly cleaned and pressed. Valerie and Amy could fit into Blaise’s old clothes easily with just a few tailoring and color changing charms, but Luna and Eleanor were a little too different to get away with that. Hence, they were content to just wash the clothes they came with and perhaps borrow anything Blaise’s mother was able to part with.

“I could eat.” Eleanor said in response to Luna’s question. She had only the few coins she had in her pockets at the time of the Battle of Hogwarts, not much in simpler terms, but she could afford a few meals out with her friend.

“I found a nice little café nearby, it serves really good stew.” Luna said and turned to walk off, leaving Eleanor to scurry after her. Amy and Blaise were in the sitting room, Blaise teaching the younger girl the beginnings of Ancient Runes while Valerie read over an essay. They didn't look up as the two girls left through the front door.

Spain was lovely and different than England. The area they were in was completely made up of the wizarding community and showed it: the architecture twisting and old, the food plenty and colorful, the languages many, and the people kept to themselves. She wondered what they would be like if the sense of terror and war wasn’t just on the outskirts of everyone’s mind – if their Ministry wasn’t closing their borders and both worlds weren’t tensing for the fall back from the desolation of her home.

They came to a tucked away building between two towering buildings that leaned towards each other dangerously. It was packed with people, all wrapped in darker clothes and speaking importantly, and they found a small table by the bar. The menus appeared in front of them, words twisting until they became legible, and Luna tapped a dish with her wand immediately, the menu disappearing with a pop a second later. A glass appeared at Luna’s left, liquid inside swirling with color and the top bubbling. Eleanor looked over the menu and chose a sandwich-soup combo that came with butterbeer.

“The reports from the muggles are even more distressing: the Americans have sent their flying eyes over and almost none of them have come back. Just the one that managed to get this image back to them – The Clans have gone to Washington to get the muggles' President read-in on the separation.” A man said at a table to their left.

“Dear Merlin, is it really so bad that they’re risking exposure to the muggles? The Native Magical Clans hate the United States, don’t blame them really what with all the bad history, but can you imagine that shitstorm?” Someone said and Eleanor frowned as she considered that. She didn't know a lot about America, just that the magical community is even more hidden than the one in Britain was. She knew a lot of the Native Peoples were still there, hidden by their magic, but that they still lost a lot of people and culture during the Muggle Expansion. She also knew that anyone that was born with magic in certain states tended to have to choose between becoming a Native or a loner, hidden from both communities. She was glad she wasn’t born there, it sounded rather complicated.

“We’ve got the report back from Scotland. It’s confirmed – Voldemort is no more, this new Dark Lord has killed him. Gods save us that this thing managed to kill that monster – there’s no report of a wand being used and the cursed thing has scales for flesh. It’s like a fucking god’s tale, not reality.” A woman said at a table behind them.

“Where did you take us?” Eleanor hissed at Luna, finally accepting that everyone in this café was a Spanish Ministry Official, rather than just a few of them.

“The Café de la Luz. It’s frequented by the Spanish Ministry and Armed Task Force, as you can tell, because it’s so close to the main building. It’s so delightful that they’re so used to everyone in here knowing each other than they just ward the entrances and exits.” Luna explained, sipping her drink like nothing was amiss. A plate of food appeared in front of her, smelling decadent and steaming slightly still.

“The Dementors are uncontrollable, sucking the souls out of anyone they can get their hands on; Island Azkaban was struck by lightning for Merlin’s sake, and a large part of the prison is just gone.” Yet another person said as Eleanor’s lunch appeared, the soup creamy and hot. She broke apart the sandwich that came with it – mostly just bread with a few pieces of tomatoes and chicken in it – and settled in to listen as Luna is doing unabashedly. Has been doing – clearly this was how she’d been staying ahead of the politics here.

It wasn't encouraging news. The first week after everyone fled from the Battle of Hogwarts – as it was now called when people whispered of it, as if it was a _battle_ and not a slow massacre that was held back by a few foolishly brave souls, mostly students – people from all over the United Kingdom flooded into other countries across the continent. In the magical world, it was a lot of people pushing into countries using apparition points and international floos, disregarding red tape. The muggle worlds however… apparently, there were a lot more of them left to die. Getting out of the United Kingdom was harder when you couldn’t apparate, floo away, or get a portkey made illegally (which was rather simple to do at home if you knew the spell work, had something on hand, and knew where you were going. It was not difficult to make a portkety. The hard part comes when Ministry Officials come to your door, displeased and talking about fines. But, of course, with this side of the world falling into chaos you didn’t have to worry so much about that…)

From what information could be gathered, the magical governments had abandoned their muggle counterparts during the first pushes, too busy dealing with their own melees to coordinate properly with the non-magical side. So when things got really bad, the muggles attributed the chaos to riots and terrorist plots, without any insight to what was to come. They were shut off and quickly abandoned, with only the well-connected and politically powerful muggles able to abandon deck.

There were other problems as well, like the knowledge that Voldemort’s body – and whatever took control of it – was amassing an army of corpses and Dark Creatures, the kind that Harry had taught them about, the ones that were little more than teeth, magic, and shadows. Eleanor had thought them as scary bedtime tales when she was younger, before the war, before Harry had come into her life.

“They’re going to be forced to fight once they realize that thing will come across the channel. I don’t think they realize that yet.” Luna commented quietly, not whispering but not wanting to be overheard.

“They’ll want to try talking at first, that much is obvious.” Eleanor responded, that last of her soup going down the same way the rest of it had – automatically and without the enjoyment of being tasted.

“With things the way they are, I’m sure if we just let the Dark Lord have the islands we should be fine. It’s a lot of land and he can have it.” An older woman said, almost like the universe was seeking to prove her point. Before Eleanor could think too much on it, she turned in her seat to address the woman.

“If you believe that, you are a fool. He won’t stay there, not once he sucks the land dry and runs out of people to kill.” She said sharply, the memory of teeth crunching into flesh and a spray of blood following clearly in her mind. “He calls the other Dark things to him because they recognize something in him.”

The café goes silent in the wake of her words and it was clear that she’d just let everyone know the café wasn't as secure as they had thought. She saw a few people go for their wands and swallowed a frog in her throat, but found herself not being overly frightened. If anything, she thought she could take them.

“A little girl thinks she knows about this from eavesdropping, that’s youth for ya.” A man said from nearby and laughter went up, the tension in the room lessening. Eleanor seethed, suddenly wishing she could show off a ring that proves she’s a Head of a Family and to be respected – she wasn't a little girl, she’d been to war for fuck’s sake.

“That little girl is one of only two people in this establishment that saw the one you’re calling the new Dark Lord.” Luna said coldly.

“Oh?” The woman Eleanor spoke to said, voice incredulous and eyebrow arched. She stood purposefully to hover over them, smiling down at them condescendingly. “And I suppose you are going to claim to be the other? Really, you two should go home, I’m sure your parents are worried about you both.”

“My parents are dead.” Luna said bluntly. Eleanor turned to her in shock – she thought Luna’s father was alive at the very least. “And yes, we are among the few that managed to get away after the Battle of Hogwarts was lost. You really shouldn’t be surprised – that battle took place outside a school, how do you think it got that name?

“The Ministry had fallen earlier that day and the building itself had been raised to the ground. We lost Albus Dumbledore that day and countless others and had to flee because the new Dark Lord started to _eat the Death Eaters_. You weren’t there to see him – to see Voldemort fall and something else hollow him out and take over. I left my father at home, thinking he would be safe long enough for me to get word to him, but he wasn’t.

“I got a fancy new ring and a very detailed account of how much property I no longer own because all of it is gone. You will have to fight this thing when it comes, because it will come and it won’t let you do anything else. You will fight or you will die.” Luna said strongly, standing up to better look the older woman in the eye. The woman looks pale and takes a step back as Eleanor stood as well, leaving some money on the table to cover their meal. They left in silence, the café still and quiet behind them.

* * *

Ginny stared down at the street below, watching people come and go, a thin plane of glass separating her from them. Her breath frosted the window as she breathed and even here in Egypt – where the current temperature was a few degrees above scorching and the cooling charms had to be renewed every six hours instead of every twelve – she was chilled. Her hair was longer than it had been, thicker, and the roots were like ice against her scalp when the wind blew through it. She stayed indoors mostly, staying out of everyone’s way. She figured this was her inheritance coming to her like molasses, what else could it be?

She shrugged a shawl over her shoulders – one of her mother’s thick, knitted, bright monstrosities – and crept out of the room she, Hermione, and Fleur’s little sister Gabrielle shared. Even at eleven, Gabrielle was such a small thing, trailing after her older sister, and looking at her was jarring. Was Ginny that small when she was her age? That trusting?

Thinking back, she supposes she must have been – a little girl who trusted everyone around her and had no reason to do otherwise, this little thing who didn’t think anything was strange about a book that wrote back to her as if it were alive and not just a clever piece of spell work. Gabrielle was this little bundle of energy and questions, forever asking Ginny what she was doing or reading or if she’d play with her. Bill and Fleur trusted her with Gabrielle and it was a different experience to have another girl around, one that was younger than her, that she could baby like her brothers did her. She wonders how strange it must have been for her brothers, for her to come back from her first year so changed and different – no longer as trusting, as curious, as social. She thinks she understands now why they all had coddled her so much all her life, if she was just like Gabrielle once upon a time.

When she headed downstairs, she found Hermione and Ron exactly where she had left them after breakfast - surrounded by piles of books and scrolls. They've been helping Bill with research, who had been conscripted - for lack of better term - into helping the government with various boundary wards that used to be in place when Egypt was still ruled by a Pharaoh. She'd overheard enough to know that Egypt was in a bad place, safety wise - ever since they'd gotten here, people had been vanishing into the Sahara or from their homes in alarmingly high numbers. In response, the governments - what was left of the Muggle one and the Magical one - were working in tandem to try and close the country up using the old wards that once encased the kingdom.

There was no secrecy to be found anywhere anymore - it was very fimly out of the bag. It was hard to stay a secret when magical creatures, beasts, and various other oddities had been coming out of the woodwork to wreak havoc faster than wizards and witches could clean up after them.

Hermione and Ron didn’t look up when she passed them to go into the kitchen. She found the twins seated at the table, a dish of leftover Chicken Shwarma between them, fiddling with a few objects scattered around them and muttering, presumably, to each other. She grabbed a plum from a dish of fruit and vegetables on the counter in the kitchen and hovered in the archway separating the two rooms as she watched her brothers and sister work. Hermione and Ron may not have been married and she wouldn't be so bold as to say they might one day be, but that girl was as much a member of this family as anyone else in it. Fleur and Bill were just engaged and yet Ginny thinks of Fluer and Gabrielle as family. She can think the same of Hermione.

Hermione chose that moment to roll her head and stretch her shoulders back, untangling from her place to stand and twist around a few more times before she started to migrate around the haphazardly stacked reading materials around her to head in Ginny's direction. The bottom of her hair has been uniformly cut so it looked less like someone took a dull blade to it and the bottoms curled just under her ears. She didn't have any bangs anymore and it all worked together to make her look older than the newly turned 18 year old she was.

"I'm going to bring lunch up to your mum, want to help?" Hermione asked.

"No, I just wanted something to munch on. Thanks though." Ginny responded quietly. Hermione hummed and grabbed the tray of set aside food to bring upstairs.

Ginny had taken her mother food only once and she couldn't bring herself to do it again. It would be easier if her mother was feeble minded or just bedridden - instead she was a strange mixture of the two. She'd stay in bed for days on end, barely eating, but then she'd get up and cook everyone food and walk around like she was at the Burrow, and Ginny was ten again. Those were the most painful times, for her mother to have retreated so far into her fantasy that she didn't seem to recognize her own children as they were. She called Ron “Percy,” thinks Hermione was Penelope, and - most disturbingly – thought that Bill was their father. The first time she called him 'Arthur dear' he fled the room and didn't come out of his and Fleur's room for hours. Ron got a pinched look when she called him Percy and didn't respond to it, while Hermione gently tried correcting her.

The less said about Arthur Weasley the better - Ginny hadn't seen him hardly at all since she got here, just enough to know that he was suffering in his own way, too.

Ginny threw the plum's seed away and headed back upstairs to her room. At the top stair, she felt something warm upon her brow, like a goodnight kiss, and the shawl she was wearing snagged on something, ripping it off her shoulders. She stood frozen on the landing, staring down at the shawl in confusion. The chill in her body eases away into something much more comfortable, keeping her skin cool but no longer cold. Her feet feel normal, the thrum of blood under her soles making her toes curl briefly.

She walked to her mother's open door, moving through it easily, and came to a stop behind Hermione who was seated at her mother's bedside, shaking her shoulders. The tray had clearly been dropped onto the floor, juice and stew broth soaking into the rugs under their feet, and then Hermione made this guttural, half gasping _sound_.

"Mum?" She whispered, knowing she wasn't going to get an answer. Hermione twisted around, eyes wide, and she jumped to her feet when they landed on the younger girl.

"Ginny, you don't need to see this," Hermione says, sounding frantic, and pushes Ginny back a few spaces by her shoulders. The room felt odd, not crowded enough for three people in it, slightly larger than it should be, and she didn't know what that meant.

"What's got you so worked up, I can feel you from - Bloody Hell." Ron said as he burst into the room and their Mum doesn't scold him for his language.

_'Why would she say anything, she's dead you fucking idiot. She's fucking dead.'_ She mentally screamed at herself, looking back at her mother's body. Her _corpse_ , because that's what it was. She was gone.

"Stay with - do you mind staying here with - with her? I mean Gin, not... fuck. I need to get Fred and George." Ron stumbled over his words and rushed back out while Hermione sat back down heavily on the bed, hunched in on herself and covered her nose with her hand, breathing harshly against the skin and shaking lightly.

_'How can she stand to be so close to the corpse?'_ She wondered and then her brothers came back up the stairs, running, and George gave a cry of dismay. Fred and George rushed to the bed in perfect synch, each of them reaching out to touch her cheek, only to yank their hands away upon touching her. Everyone in the family always joked that they did everything together, always have and always will, but Ginny knows Fred was born first. Their mother used to joke that it felt like they even tried to come into the world together and -

What did any of this matter? Her mother was _dead_. Dead like Percy, like Seamus and Dean, like Remus and Sirius, like the Headmaster, like so many people she didn't know the names or faces of. She didn't eat dinner with everyone last night and now she'll never have another meal with her mother ever again.

She stumbled out of the room in a haze and remembered that she had left her shawl on the second floor landing and it was probably trampled by her brothers. It's right where it fell and she sits down ungracefully, pulling it into her lap. The tear is jagged and thick, but she thinks it's fixable. Charlie was always ripping his sweaters and scarves when he was growing up and mum was able to fix them in no time, with just some extra yarn and her trusty knitting needles. She thinks she might be able to fix the shawl herself but she never paid all that much attention to her mother when she tried to teach this stuff to Ginny. It always seemed so boring and unnecessary - why would Ginny need to know how to knit of all things when she had her mother and spells to mend tears in clothes?

She should have paid more attention.

"Ginny, what are you doing there?" Fluer asked a few minutes later, coming from the room that housed the fireplace and only apperation point in the house, holding onto Gabrielle's hand.

"Mum." Ginny croaks out, unable to get any other words out, and Fluer's eyes widened. She let go of Gabrielle's hand, saying something in French that sounds terse and like an order, before she leapt up the stairs like a spooked gazelle. Gabrielle walks up the stairs to sit down in front of Ginny, not facing the older girl, and Ginny doesn't know what to say to her. So she stays silent and reaches out to braid the girl's hair, to give her something mindless to do.

Bill was called home eventually, after Gabreille had a few braids in her hair and Fluer had maneuvered everyone downstairs. Bill and Fluer talked in hush voices while Hermione told Gabrielle what was going on, slowly and stopping every now and again as if about to burst into tears. The Egyptian Guard came, talking to Bill and going upstairs briefly before coming back down and saying something to Bill in Arabic that Ginny didn't understand.

Ginny's father wanders down after the Guard leave, crying openly and looking devastated. He collapsed next to Hermione, who gathered him up like a child and let him cry on her shoulder. Ginny thought she should be upset about that, but couldn't bring herself to feel much of anything beyond numb and lukewarm.

Hours passed in silence before Ron stood and got them all something to eat. He reheated the lasagna from a few nights ago and cooked some meatballs to go with it. He waved the table in front of him to put it in front of the couches and chairs they were all collapsed in, the pile of books, scrolls, and tapestries he and Hermione were researching forgotten and pushed to one side of the room.

Ron settled the table down, putting glasses and pitchers of milk and juice down onto the surface along with plates that held still steaming food. He made himself a plate of meatballs and lasagna and poured himself some milk, then sat back and ate in silence. Fluer was the next one to move, reaching out to make plates for Gabrielle, Bill, and herself. Bill took the plate and fork from her in a daze and had to be prodded to eat what was in front of him. The rest followed soon after, going through the motions as if they were underwater, eerily silent as they chewed, swallowed, drank, and didn't taste any of what they devoured.

"We should have a funeral." Bill said after all the food was gone.

"With just us?" Fred and George said together, all joy gone from their voices. They sounded like a single monotone voice, no echoing as they usually had between them.

"She wouldn't want to be buried here." Ron said.

"Well, we don't have much of a choice, do we?" Bill snapped back and Ron didn't retort or flinch, just looked at their eldest brother like he'd never seen him.

Ginny started when Gabrielle leaned against her side. She looked down at the girl, not sure what she wanted - a hug, perhaps? Some comforting words, probably. She had none for her, but she did draw her close and stroke her hair – that was the least she could do.

"Did she want to be buried?" Fluer asked softly.

"I... I don't know." Bill said, hunching over his knees and burying his head in his hands. Fluer stroked his back.

"I don' 'ant to be buried." Gabrielle whispered, so softly that Ginny almost missed it. Her accent when speaking English was a little more pronounced than Fleur's, most likely from lack of practice, but overall she was doing much better than when the Triwizard Tournament was going on.

"Why not?" Ginny asked the girl, equally quiet.

"Make people zad." The little girl responded, sniffling.

"They'd be just as sad if you weren't buried, you know. You'd be gone either way." Ginny said, thinking about Seamus and Dean - she didn't get a chance to see their graves. Doesn't even know where they were buried - didn't even know if both of them were buried, honestly - and it made her feel like a horrible person. What kind of friend didn't know those things?

"Non, gravez make zad. I 'ant to be burned, kept cloze. Less zad." Gabreille replied, voice firm in it's quietness.

"I suppose that's up to you." Ginny said back, not sure if that was a true sentiment but letting the younger girl think that. Who was she to decide for Gabrielle what was to be done with her body when she was no longer in it?

_'And isn't the fact that she has an opinion on something like this a depressing sign of our times?'_ Ginny thought as she patted Gabrielle's head a few times, still not sure if the younger girl was getting what she wanted from her.

She didn't want to burn her mother. She didn't want to watch her flesh go up in flames and her hair turn to ash. Equally, she didn't want her mother to rot in the sands in a country that she wasn't even aware she'd been in most of the time. She wanted her mother alive and in her right mind again, wanted her to be healing from grief and here to tell her how to fix knitted shawls. She wanted her mother to tell her about the uncles she never knew, that died in the First War before she met them; wanted her mother to tease her about Luna and give her talks about intimacy and love that made Ginny blush; wanted her mother to share memories of Percy with her, of Charlie ( _'Please don't be dead, Charlie, not you too. Please don't be dead, no more.'_ ); she wanted her mother alive.

But she wasn't. And in the end, that's what mattered to Ginny - her mother was gone. What did it matter what they did with her body, her shell that she left behind, hollowed out as it was?

"Ginny, what do you think?" Fluer asked, gently and reaching across Gabrielle to clasp their hands together.

"Whatever you think is best." She said and stood up, pulling Gabrielle to her feet gently. "We'll take the dishes." She continued.

_'Charlie, where are you? Why aren't you here? Protect him, please, I can't lose anyone else.'_

* * *

The sun was setting and Draco reclined in the cushy chair he was sprawled in, watching the sky change colors. Severus used to say the sky was a potion in progress, the sun and moon grand Potions Masters stirring everything together. Most didn't know the man had a poetic bone in his body, but Draco knew he could be kind and loving, when given a chance to. Severus was his second father and it never seemed strange to him that he had two fathers and a mother. The three raised him as best they could, loved him more than there were stars in the sky, and dotted on him. He never really questioned their strange relations, but now that they're all gone he wondered if they were as happy as he thought they were. Did Narcissa love them? Either one of them or both of them? Did Lucius or Severus feel anything for her? Were they friends or just resigned to the fact that Narcissa and Lucius had be married or be disowned? They never seemed unhappy to him, never raised their voices at each other that he knew of, but he had been a child. He hoped they were happy.

"Draco?" Harry's soft voice, rough from babbling and screaming and howling throughout the weeks, came from behind him suddenly. Draco turned quickly, near falling out of the chair, elation and wild hope rising in him. _'By the gods, be real. Give him back to me, please, you've had him long enough,_ _ **give him back**_ _.'_ He thought with his heart in his throat, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Harry was standing, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that was probably just knotted at the base of his skull, eyes boring into his own. They weren't dull or vacant. And he was wearing a robe that barely closed around him, shrugged on hurriedly, and as the seconds passed he took a step forward and breathed out a sob, reaching for Draco.

He rushed forward, gathering Harry to him, and gladly let Harry cling to him, kissing him desperately.

"I couldn't control it." Harry said when they broke apart. Harry's hands were on Draco's face, touching him reverently like he wanted to re-memorize what it looked like from touch alone. Draco didn't begrudge him that though, as he was running his own hands down Harry's back, across his hips, up his arms, just to make sure he was real. Harry had dark circles under his eyes from the irregular sleep cycle and his skin looked sickly, a scattering of acne across the bridge of his nose. The lightning bolt scar that always looked like it was a newly acquired one, just getting ready to scab over, was now a thin white mark, long healed. It actually looked like a wound Harry had gotten as an infant that left barely a mark on him. In stark contrast was the actual scabbed over, jagged cuts that ran from Harry's right temple to just above his jawline. He looked beautiful.

"I thought I was going to die like that." Harry continued, looking close to breaking down in tears.

"I didn't think you'd remember any of it." Draco admitted.

"I don't, at least not what my body was doing, but I knew I wasn't in it, not really. I was trapped and I couldn't find you." Harry said, pressing his face against Draco's neck. Draco held him close, breathing deeply through his nose to try and keep calm. “I’m so tired but I feel like I’ve been asleep for ages.” He continued softly.

“How about a bath then?” Draco suggested. Harry nodded, pulling away from the other boy. Draco took hold of Harry’s hand to guide him to the bathroom. There was a sunken bathtub in the center of the room, big enough to fit them both, and around it was various potions and soaps bottled up. The soap his mother used was still sitting there, waiting for Narcissa to come back and use the last few cap-fulls.

Harry took off the robe he was wearing, revealing pale and scar peppered skin. He knelt by the tub, looking over the various bottles, the muscles in his back moving as he reached for a particular one.

“Are you going to join me or just watch? Cause I don’t think I’d be able to put on a show tonight.” Harry said, smiling at him softly as he slithered into the warm water. Draco snorted and tugged his shirt off, shucking his pants in the next breath. The water was comforting and Harry immediately rested his head against Draco’s shoulder once he was settled, his hands settled low on Draco’s stomach.

"This cottage belonged to your parents?" Harry asked, pressing a kiss to Draco's neck. Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's back, settling him close. It was still sinking in that Harry was finally all here and present with him.

"Yeah, it was a wedding gift from some distant relations that were absorbed into the Malfoy line when the Head died with no kids or heir." Draco responded.

"I'm sorry. About your father and Severus, I mean. I didn't get a chance to say that before... I'm sorry." Harry said softly.

"Thank you. I'm sorry about Black and Lupin, too." Draco said and kissed the top of Harry's head.

They stayed in the water until they pruned.

* * *

"I want them gone." His mother says and Blaise doesn't look up from Draco's letter. It seems Potter is himself at last, and Blaise is happy for it. Maybe he'll have a plan, he always seems to have one. He finishes the letter, sets it aside, and reaches for the documents about a cremation for his father.

"I'm the Head of this family now and I say they stay. Valerie and Amy Moon are lovely girls and orphans. I've always wanted sisters. Once I'm more settled and things aren't as crazy, I'm offering them a place in our family, so you might as well learn to get along with them. Anyway, I'm too young to have kids their age." He said firmly. He didn't want to be having this bloody conversation, not right now.

"I'm your mother, you could at least show me some respect. Those girls are fine - and yes, I'd be happy to call them your sisters if they accept - but the Lovegood and Gunn girls are perfectly able to care for themselves. There's no reason for them to be here taking up our resources." She said, leaning onto the desk he was using to loom over him. He'd usually apologize to her now, say he wasn't meaning to be disrespectful, but he just can't muster that kind of strength right now.

"They're my friends and they hardly need more from us other than a place to sleep. They give me information I can't get from any of our family's contacts, it isn't as though they haven't paid their way. They're staying. I'm up to my ears in paperwork about my duties, so if that's all you needed?" Blaise poised it as a question, letting his mother leave with some dignity. The woman left as silently as she came in, and Blaise went back to his work.

He shouldn't even be the head of the family. It should have gone to his mother, he wasn't ready for these responsibilities yet. He'd thought he'd have a few years to go before he needed to know all the ins and outs of his family and the position that came with it. The fact that he held a Wizagomont seat was meaningless now, since Britain was officially dissolved, both the muggle Britain and the Wizarding British Empire.

He also had all the paperwork for the money they owned - the British branch of Gringotts cleared everything out of the building when the Ministry was decimated and relocated to Erara-Dull, the Goblin Island. Blaise didn't know where said island was actually located, since every Gringotts bank was shut down for four days to turn them all into portkey storefronts, but he suspected it was either in the Pacific Ocean or otherwise located somewhere out of the way. The Zabini fortune was intact and they were still well off, even after losing both the toy maker and Potions shop located in Wales. He paid the families that worked there either retirement or funeral packages and it barely made a dent - and he'd been very generous with what he gave out.

But he didn't understand why it's _him_ doing any of this. His mother was deemed not sufficient enough for this title and he wanted to know why. He just wasn't sure if that was enough of a reason to demand an answer - was he owed an answer for this?

"Blaise, you need to hear the report coming in through the wireless." Eleanor said, leaning against his doorjamb - he didn't hear her come in and he wondered if she'd been there long. He followed her out.

"The French Parliaments of both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds have announced in a joint conference that they are sending a mixed military force to their northern coastal cities and provinces to defend the French border along the English Channel. Some of the cities that will soon play host to an armed force not seen since before the Separation will be: Honfleur, Caen, Rennes, Rouen, and Lille. They report that strange sights have been seen on the English Channel and the muggles have picked up objects with a system they call 'radar'. It appears they have seen the large sea monsters that have been coming into the Channel in numbers that haven't been seen in this area since the Roman Empire was in its Golden Age.

"Reports are still coming in about wild and domestic animals alike acting strangely. The Cortes Generales of the Muggle branch of Spain and the Queen of Magical Spain have both expressed statements saying that they are working towards keeping Spain separated in the traditions of our culture. The Prime Minister of Muggle Spain called for an end to rioting and hysteria that has swept through larger areas, which has led to the deaths of at least 150 children both muggle and magical and thousands injured. The Queen of the Magical Spanish Empire assures her people that she is working closely with law enforcement to keep our children, along with our culture, intact and safe.” A reporter said in smooth Spanish. Luna and Eleanor had heavy frowns on their faces while Amy had a look of intense concentration on. Amy’s Spanish was decent but she probably had lost a few sentences due to the reporters speed of talking and higher level of vocabulary. She might have to wait for the English report later tonight to really understand everything.

“They left out the Dementors coming across the channel.” Luna said grimly. Seeing her so focused and grim was odd, her face didn’t seem to fit with a frown. The lines around her eyes weren’t even set in yet, the corners of her lips pulled strangely as her mouth turned down.

“If they left them out, then how you do you know about them?” Valerie asked, arching an eyebrow at her. Eleanor returned her expression, equally unamused with her.

“I can keep track of reports too, you know.” Luna said in response before standing to leave the room. Eleanor scurried after her, the two girls already speaking to each other quietly. He figured they were going to their café to get more information. Blaise turned back to the wireless as the reporter continued with:

“The Italian Ministry for Magic has announced that they are deporting anyone with a work visa, expired or not, in hopes of closing the country’s borders. Greece has also closed both its muggle and wider magical borders, and there are reports coming from Russia stating that the Empire is undergoing civil unrest and the stirrings of another uprising.”

Blaise went back to his office; he needed to work on getting them all citizenship in Spain before it was too late.

* * *

Neville spooned some stew into a bowl, passed it to the volunteer next to him, and grabbed another bowl. The monotone nature of the work was soothing.

“You’ve already gotten a bowl today, get out of line!” A woman farther down the line shouted in guttural German. There was some pushing and then a full fight broke out between three women in the line. Neville sighed, putting the bowl down and whipped his wand out. He flung a low grade shield spell to separate the women pushing and shoving at each other; they hit the invisible wall hard enough to send them to the ground.

“Break it up!” Neville shouted at them, his German just simple and clear enough to be understood. “We have plenty!” He continued, holding his wand on them. They glared and muttered at him, shuffling away to the end of the line. He put his wand back in its holster under his sleeve and went back to spooning stew into bowls to give out. The line started to move again and Neville noticed that more people glared at him as they shuffled by – he tried not to let it bother him.

His shift ended a few hours later, a girl a little older than him with green and purple dyed hair coming to switch places with him. The head of this particular food center was a huge woman with a shaved head and meaty arms. She was around eighty years old and didn’t take lip from anyone, and being able to speak English, German, and Russian fluently meant it was difficult to say anything about her at all. The fact that she was waiting for him wasn’t a good sign.

“The Brit, yeah?” She asked him as he paused in front of her. They were the same height, though she had a slight hunch in her back.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied, already knowing where this was going. He’d been asked to leave two other food lines he volunteered at and been fired from the farmers market – muggle Germany wasn’t a nice place to be magical it seemed, now that the secret was firmly out globally.

“Rumor is that you’re a magic user. We’re helping those of us who lost everything to your kind; you make everyone uncomfortable in light of the current situation.” She said, arms folded in front of her and feet squared. He stared at her, not sure if she was expecting him to attack her or what. He didn’t bother with a response, just apperated away.

He popped back into existence at the hostel he was staying in and unofficially owned. The building was abandoned when he got here, in disrepair and rotting in places, but with a few charms and cleaning it was good enough for him to live in. He cleaned it up, repaired the huge hole in the main wall, added two more windows, and got some locks for a few different doors that worked as front doors for some separate apartments within it.

He had three people who lived under him on the ground floor, and a small family who lived in the two rooms next to Neville. The family next to him had been living on the streets when Neville got into the country, they couldn’t get a place to live due to something with their past “Credit,” whatever that was. The parents both had jobs that didn’t pay that well and three kids – one of which was just a year old – and yet they were overjoyed with their space. He didn’t require anything from them, other than a little quiet once the sun went down, and they were truly grateful to be there. Most of his dinner meals came from their leftovers. He didn’t require rent from anyone since he didn’t own the building legally and he’d put up mild repelling charms so no one would come around to, say, make the people living there with him pay enormous rent prices or kick them out. If he got his hands on some documentation that said he owned the building, it would be even easier to make sure none of the people living here would get kicked out if he wasn’t there.

Two hours later, everything he owned was once again in a knapsack and he was ready to leave. The documentation for the building now read that its low income housing, with rent at a sliding scale depending on how much a renter makes a month. He put the parents of the family next to him as the caretakers, so they’d always have a place to stay.

He left the country feeling accomplished and ready for something more. He made for France.

* * *

“The seal of Osiris will hold an entity within its confines for – is that three or two? – thousand years, held in between the shores between the confines of life and death.” Fred translated slowly with long pauses as he cross checks dictionaries. George helped his brother lay the tapestry out flat to better read it. The edges were fraying and the Arabic embossed onto the front center was probably once white but was now a moldy yellow. George opened his own Arabic to English dictionary to help translate the tapestry’s words. It’d been difficult finding dictionaries old enough to use – obviously both Arabic and English have had a certain amount of linguistic changes over the centuries, so it was hard to get an accurate translation.

Bill and a few goblins had been very excited about this tapestry and the twins wanted to know why. They may not have enough of a grasp of the languages involved to actively help in research like Ron and Hermione, but they weren’t entirely helpless either.

“Here, listen to this: ‘And the evil beings rampage was halted by the power of the people through a heaping of blood.’ This must be Ancient Egyptian blood magic.” George said.

“I think you’re right, cause over here it says: ‘The firstborn was taken and judgment rained down upon her. When she rose, it was as the tipper of scales, the Nile-rider, and she went forth to defend the nation.’ It must be a protection blood spell – the seal gives power to the one connected to it, creating a feedback loop. The sealed powers feed the signal, which feeds the one tied to it, which causes the sealed to spend more magic trying to break out. Eventually, it must drain whatever is sealed inside it to nothing.” Fred said, sounding excited.

“That’s why Bill was so excited. If they put this seal around the border wards, they trap a lot of the creatures and monsters out there, link the Armed Forces to the seal, and bam – a powered protecting force for the nation’s borders.” George said, thumping the table with his fist.

“We could use this for something else.” George said slowly, an idea starting to form.

“That we could, brother, that we could. That thing that took old snake face over, we could use this for it – it’ll come across the channel, even the French muggles can tell.” Fred replied, catching onto his idea perfectly. It would be dangerous. The Egyptian government would never have allowed a national treasure like this to be used for another nation.

“We can’t link this to another army.” Fred declared. George nodded, knowing that if they did, their remaining family at the very least would be arrested, never mind that they didn’t plan on telling any of them what they were going to do.

“Nor can we link this to us.” George said, realizing the truth in that as he spoke. He didn’t think they’d be able to contain that much power – they’d break apart from the inside.

“That leaves a stranger or Harry.” Fred said grimly. George hummed in response.

They’d use Harry, of course. They’d be able to connect something to him, they’d have to find a way, but they’d do it. He would be the perfect champion, no matter how much he wouldn’t want to be. He’d be able to channel a foreign entity’s magic, he was strong enough, and he wasn’t allied with any particular nation anymore, since Britain wasn’t a country anymore.

“Guess we’re going to France.” George said.

“Thank Merlin we managed to figure out how to portkey muggles.” Fred agreed. They rolled the tapestry up, putting it in its carrier and smuggled it into the room they shared with Ron.

They’d leave tonight.

* * *

The Saint-Catherine's Church was filled with victims of the Dementor’s Kiss. Each empty body stared at the ceiling, breathing steadily. The dementors didn’t discriminate between humans; they ate whatever was in their path. The muggle doctors were examining the bodies, trying to see if there was anything they could do, but the Healers didn’t bother: they knew there was nothing to be done for any of these bodies.

Neville blew into his curled hands, trying to get warmth back into his fingers. It seemed pointless; with the presence of so many Dementors it seemed to be constantly just above freezing wherever he went in Honfleurs.

He arrived in the coastal town earlier that week, just before the Dementors started to appear. The magical army that was here was on rotating shifts to keep them away with Patronus Charms while the muggle half was here primarily for evacuation procedures.

He headed for his post, hunched in on himself as he walked through the streets. He remembered his Gran and Draco’s father talking about Honfluers once, over tea and breakfast. From what he heard, it was a beautiful city famous for its water based spells – the inventor of the Mother’s Milk Spell was born and educated in this city – and the people were friendly and especially open to tourists. How different the city was now, with its boarded up houses and frightened people. He relieved the French soldier from her post, cracking his neck before he cast the spell, tossing a quick grin at the much older woman when she clapped him on the shoulder.

From the dome of white light atop the church came a tendril of bright blue, not like the sky but more like the blue in the Ravenclaw insignia. It struck quickly, and when it hit the soldier she screamed as it sent her flying, a burst of blood coming from her. A mess of the color shot out of the cage, too fast for Neville to give it a shape and the soldier continued to scream out of his line of sight. A wet crunching was also coming from behind him and the soldier screamed louder, wordless in terror, for a few more seconds before the sound was cut off abruptly. It was over in a matter of seconds.

He turned to face the thing, whatever it was, just in time to feel sharp, wand-thick teeth sink into his shoulder and catch the monster with his chest. His concentration broke on the spell and he went down hard, screaming as it crunched down into flesh and bone alike. It hurt, but he had been placed under Bellatrix Lestrange’s Cruciatus Curse and he had pushed through on that occasion; he would push through this one, too. He shoved the creature off him, feeling his flesh tear away, and for a moment he couldn’t see through the pain. Nausea rolled around his stomach, crawling up his throat, and he dry heaved a few times trying to dispel the feeling.

The dome of white light cracked without him to support it and as the creature – a huge blue shape that looked like the shadow of a two-headed lizard for a moment before it shifted to a more solid form of a great, six-legged beast with a gaping mouth with rows upon rows of teeth – leapt for him again. He shot a bludgeoning spell, followed by a splintering hex, and gained his feet long enough to try and run for another officer. He was losing blood quickly, great streams running down his arm and making his skin sticky, and as he ran he managed to stick his fingers in the wound to try and stop the stream. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. Something sharp and curved ranked across his back, thin lines of cold as the fabric of his shirt separated.

A soldier turned as Neville got closer to them, her dark hair framing her chin and ears, and her eyes widened in horror at whatever she saw. She turned her wand from the endless stream of Patroni, the white light ending from her wand, and flung a spell over Neville’s head. Behind him the creature gave a shrill whine, making all the hair on the back of Neville’s neck stand at attention. He stumbled to a stop in front of her, long enough for her to tap her wand over his bleeding shoulder.

It felt like a hand appeared under his own and squeezed until he couldn’t feel the throbbing pain in his shoulder. He figured it must be a spell to create a tourniquet out of the air - he’d heard of it, couldn’t remember the spell himself, but it was supposed to last around an hour.

A dementor collided with the creature just before it reached them, a sound like fingernails against chalkboard, and they both went down in a mix of black fabric and blue shadows.

“Get up!” The woman said in a heavily accented voice, pulling him up forcibly. His head spun even as she dragged him away in a run, his feet slipping against the cobbles.

He felt dizzy.

* * *

_She was in her parent’s house, the windows open and the television providing a background buzz. Her father was reading in his armchair, a chessboard in mid play before him on the coffee table and the smell of melted fudge and vanilla was in the air._

“ _Eermy, up!” A little boy’s voice demanded of her. When she looked down, a toddler was standing at her knees. He had her bushy eyebrows above her father’s light brown eyes and her mother’s thin lips which were set in her grandmother’s rosy cheeks. No one else had managed to inherit grandma’s cheeks in her family, which was a real shame._

_She reached down to pick him up, her hands tucking under his arms, and he was lighter than she thought he’d be. He smiled at her widely when she put him on her lap. Almost immediately, he wiggled off to crawl towards a book placed at the other end of the couch with a bright cover._

_He sat down with it in his lap, opening it up to look at the pictures. She wondered if she was supposed to read to him, but he seemed fine on his own. His pronunciation of her name reminded her of trying to teach Viktor how to say her own name. The memory caused her heart to ache strangely and when she reached to rub her chest her hand came away wet with her blood._

_There was a hole in her chest – her heart was missing. She was dripping blood onto the couch; her shirt was drenched in the hot, sticky mess. She looked back at the little boy who was reading to himself happily, and stood up to get some towels to try to clean up a little bit. She wanted to pick him up and read to him but she couldn’t do that while filthy._

_Her mother was in the kitchen and she was on fire as she baked. Her skin had melted off her face and her hair was a blaze of orange, blue, and red. Her heels clicked on the title, leaving little marks where the plastic was melting off to harden behind her. Hermione had never seen a body on fire, most of its flesh gone revealing muscles and tendons burning underneath it. She’d seen corpses of course; the newly dead laying on a battlefield, the newly dead in coffins, but this was different. Her mother moved with a manic energy, waving her arms in place and constantly in motion throughout the small space, the little click-clack of her heels following after her like lightening to thunder. Like if she held still her whole body would crumble to ash and dust, burn itself to nothing._

“ _Oh, are you still here? I thought you’d left already.” Her mother said, voice high pitched as if she had inhaled helium. She spoke quickly, almost too fast for Hermione to understand her._

“ _No, I…Could I borrow some towels, I’ve made a mess.” Hermione said._

_Her mother seized her by the face, hands stilling to press scorching hot against her skin. She had no eyes or nose anymore, no flesh to speak of at all, but in her eye sockets were two dark abysses that seared Hermione in place and took her air from her lungs._

“ _You’re always making a mess! If you think I’m letting you touch your brother, you’ve got another thing coming, young lady – clean up your own messes and don’t come begging me for help!” Her mother screamed at her, fire catching from her hands to Hermione’s flesh. Her mother’s gaping mouth opened and closed around the sentences, fire and ash spewing forth and Hermione couldn’t breathe._

_Her scalp burned, her lungs ached, and as she cried her tears evaporated before they touched her chin. The fire seared into the gaping hole where her heart should be and she couldn’t scream through the pain._

_A brother._

Hermione woke with a gasp, tears on her face, and Ron’s worried face above hers. She took a few deep breaths, trying to convince herself she wasn’t choking on smoke, and slowly sat up in their bed.

They weren’t supposed to be sleeping together, she didn’t think, but no one said anything about forcing them apart. She suspected that if they were doing more than just sleeping that would be different, but they just needed the closeness of each other during the night.

Ron sat up with her, holding her hands, as she told him about her dream. He didn’t interrupt her once, just continued to stroke her hands and listen.

“I know they’re dead but I wonder if it was a boy. Maybe it was a girl. Maybe my parents died before the baby was even born.” Hermione said.

“Or maybe they’re all fine. Maybe after you left, they listened to us when we said things were getting bad and left. They liked Italy, maybe they went there and had the baby. Maybe they’re there now, behind the old Byzantine wards, safe and sound. Maybe you have a little brother just like in your dream.” Ron said and leaned forward to hug her.

She tucked herself into his arms, hiding her face in his neck and wished they could stay like that forever. She felt safe in his arms.

She kept the feeling of his arms around her and heart beating steadily against her ear with her as she got ready for the day, crawled away from him to get dressed and run a brush through her much shorter hair. It was more manageable now that it just touched the back of her neck at its longest, the natural curls coming to the surface instead of creating a mess of bushy static. She hadn’t had short hair since before she started Hogwarts and she didn't like it truth to be told - she looked at her reflection and saw a stranger.

When they went downstairs, Bill was making breakfast and Fluer was sitting at the table with a cup of chocolate milk. Fluer’s hair was collected in a loose ponytail and she was wearing one of Bill’s long sleeved shirts while Bill himself was only in his sleep pants, his long hair tangled in the back.

“Morning.” Bill greeted them easily and Ron responded for them while Hermione found her eyes trailing the tattoo on Bill’s back. It takes up his entire back and occasionally the runes move to his arms, but today they’re all clustered down his spine, the runes making up Fluer’s name circled at the base of his neck while some others - the ones for family, for country, for strength - fall in an almost straight line down the line of his back. They’re all a dark blue today.

“Do you want an omelette, Hermione?” Bill asked.

“No, thank you. But could you leave the eggs out for me?” She asked, checking over his back for one last visual check that everything was fine, before going to grab some tomatoes.

Bill finished with his and Fluer’s breakfast while Ron whipped up a fruit smoothie for himself and Hermione made her own breakfast. When she was done, the three of them were still eating and talking around the table, trading information heard from various sources as they did in the morning now.

It’s not until Ginny comes down with Gabrielle that Hermione starts to wonder why the twins haven’t come down yet. They’re usually down by now, making toast and pancakes for the later risers.

When Bill finally tells them that they’re gone and with his blessing, she can’t even bring herself to be shocked.

Of course they left, what did she expect of them? That they’d be content to hide here and let scores of people die? Of course they went to France.

“Have you told your father?” Hermione asked, once Ron and Ginny had left the room in equal states of upset and Fluer had pulled Gabrielle into the living room for her lessons and it was just the two of them.

“Have I told my father that I sent some of his sons off to their deaths because I knew they’d go with or without my blessing and I wanted to make sure they had enough provisions for being on the front lines? No, shockingly, I haven’t been able to bring myself to do that to him yet.” Bill said into his hands. Hermione reached for him, pulling his hands away from his face to hold them in her own.

“Let me do it. He deserves to know.” She said and patted his hand before standing to do just that.

She thought of her parents, telling her to leave her childhood home; she thought of Mrs. Weasley teaching her potions to lessen the pain from her monthly cramps and how to make cookies from scratch; she thought of a little boy laughing in delight as she picked him up.

No, Mr. Weasley didn’t need to hear this news from his eldest son; let him hear it from someone he could show his tears to.

* * *

He woke up in a tent, missing his right arm from the forearm down. He’d like to think that he didn’t notice it at first, but he’d be lying. There are bandages wrapped around his head, his left shoulder, and the stump where the rest of his arm should be. He stares at it, his eyes burning with tears, but he doesn’t cry.

“Oh, we missed you waking up. Bummer, I had a great joke about stumps.” A familiar voice says in English. It was such an inappropriate thing to say that he couldn't help the laugh that bubbles out of him, thinking of what Dean would say trying to one up whatever joke Fred or George would say about this.

Fred and George Weasley are grinning at him from the foot of the bed he was in like he was back at Hogwarts. They were both wearing matching shirts and dark pants and they'd made sure their hair was styled in the exact same way. He knew that the one with a thin scar under his right eye was Fred while the other was George and he hated that he could tell them apart now because of it.

“What are you two idiots doing here?” Neville said finally and sat up properly to let them sit down.

“Oh, did ya hear that, brother of mine? He called us idiots!” Fred said and George turned to nod at his brother, his hand going over his chest as if hurt.

“I know, no respect for the bravery of the soldiers on the front lines, defending Europe! But, of course, if we are idiots for being here now….”

“...then what does it make him, since he was here before?” Fred finished. Neville laughed.

“It makes me the third musketeer!” He said and they all laughed. He missed Seamus and Dean suddenly with a ferocity that almost stole his breath away, because that used to be their own joke when they’d get into trouble. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the Trio of Trouble, who did important things like deal with killer teachers and war and escaped prisoners but they were the Three Musketeers, getting into trouble for missing classes and making jokes.

He missed them but he was also perversely happy they weren’t alive to see the world as it was now. He wondered if that made him a bad person.

“Well, there’s a sound I have missed.” A soldier said as he came into the tent. He was speaking English, but Neville thought his robes marked him as part of the German Armed Forces if he wasn't mistaken.

“Sir, hello, sir!” The twins said simultaneously, standing to offer a muggle style salute with their hands to their faces. The soldier grinned at them, waving them back down, and pulled up a chair to sit.

“I’m glad you are in a good mood. It’s always better to make plans while laughter is nearby.” He said.

“Plans, sir?” Neville asked, because he was almost positive he has no idea what this man was talking about.

“Yes, you see I am in charge here. As of, about thirty minutes ago, in fact. I saw you fighting against that creature that came out of the sea and I saw you fight to keep alive and keep as much of your arm as possible. I don’t know what that thing was, I suspect it is an old dark creature that hasn’t seen the light of day in centuries, but I do know that the other people who got it’s teeth into them all died screaming. From the bite to their torso their skin melted away, their bones withered to splinters, and it was a very painful and messy way to die. You did not die and I am glad for it.” He said and Neville stared at him in astonishment.

“How many - “ was all he got out before the man raised his hand and shook his head. Neville fell silent.

“I will keep that number, for it is mine to bear, not yours. Your two young friends have also presented us with a very interesting weapon.” He said and Neville looked to the twins for confirmation.

They both looked serious, which meant whatever it was must not have been as straightforward as a weapon. He could think of a few things they might have been able to find in Egypt that would fall into that category.

“Where do we start?” Neville asked because he didn’t know anything about planning for events such as this.

He knew Harry wouldn’t have to ask, but he wasn't Harry and so far he’d made that work for him.


	20. Chapter 20

Luna walked ahead of Ginny, hair gathered in a knot at the base of her neck, shirt wrinkled and she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Her bright socks faded between colors, the tops a bright pink that blended into orange before fading to purple. And atop her head, spinning in a tight circle not unlike that of a halo, were three blue lights.

She didn’t recognize the corridor they were walking down – it had tall, skinny glass windows that let in bars of sunlight and the floor was made of what looked like limestone. There was the faint smell of peppermint and willow bark in the air, sweet and tangy.

“You love this girl. I’d say I’m impressed, but war makes adults out of children all the time.” Luna said and at once Ginny realized that she was dreaming. She continued to follow after the impostor, wanting to demand that she stop using Luna’s form but knew it would be useless to even waste the breath needed for it. Her fingers ached with the cold, like she was 12 again and had played too long in the snow with just her mittens and no warming charms.

“I thought I was done with my inheritance – I failed.” She said sharply and Not-Luna laughed a throaty, wild sound that Ginny recognized from the many times her girlfriend would laugh when she was tickled.

“You failed that test, true. This is another one.” Not-Luna said once she’d calmed down.

“What’s your name?” Ginny asked before she could lose her nerve. Not-Luna stopped walking for a few moments, as if shocked or perhaps distracted, before she wiggled her shoulders and continued.

“Whatever you want it to be, darling.” Not-Luna responded flippantly.

“I might as well call you Selene if you’re going to take Luna’s form all the time.” Ginny grumbled, mostly to herself.

“What has three heads, two hearts, and laughs when it roars?” Selene asked. Ginny blinked at the non-sequitur before thinking it over. They came to a stop in front of an ornate door with carvings of lion heads on it and there was a door knocker in the shape of hippogriff claws in the center. All in all, the entire thing looked tacky.

“A Cerberus.” She answered and Selene reached out to touch the door knocker. The door swung open, light cutting through Selene’s form, and the three blue lights shown brilliantly for a few moments, the light almost blinding, before they extinguished completely.

“This is your test. Find what needs to be found.” Selene said and her form vanished like fog.

Snow swallowed her feet, brittle like dying grass and just as warm. She squinted against the sudden light reflecting off the surrounding snow, a frozen wasteland spread out around her. She walked, snow crunching under her feet and sinking like mud between her toes. It pricked and sometimes stung her, like blades of high grass, but she wasn’t cold.

She walked until her legs burned; the snow up around her calves and clinging to her like the mud from the chicken coops at home, sweat dripped down her neck and clung to her hair. She was acutely aware of how blissed out the feeling of being hot down to her bones made her feel – she’d been so cold for such a long time it almost seemed like she’d never experience warmth again.

‘ _Find what needs to be found, huh?’_ She thought, annoyed at the vagueness of the statement. She sunk down onto her knees, feeling the snow engulf her waist like water, and her legs ached like they had when she was younger, chasing after her brothers on summer days. Percy used to play tag with them, the twins always wanted to be it so they could chase after everyone else. Bill would roar with laughter at them all, holding a book that would be forgotten the second Charlie tackled him. Ron used to get purposely caught if it looked like she was getting tired – he’d chase after their brothers until she recovered enough energy to rejoin them. Their mother would come out with lunch and drinks, hollering at them all to gather round so she could perform cleaning charms on their hands and faces before eating.

She tilted her head up, letting the sunlight warm her face, smiling at the memories. She would never have those moments again – her mother and Percy were both gone forever. Bill was getting married, a proper adult, and Ron was so serious now and the twins…she didn’t recognize them sometimes. Their minds sharped towards war and escapes, ambushes and weapons, not laughter and pranks. She couldn’t remember the last time either of them had performed an actual prank.

And now they had gone to France and she feared she’d never see them again.

And Charlie, her sweet brother who carried hurt birds and lizards into his room, who always knew where to tickle her to make her shriek with laughter, who let her sleep in his bed when she was so small thunder still scared her – she didn’t even know if he was alive. Surely if he had made it back to Romania, there would have been word from him by now. The borders around Egypt were newly closed, he had time to get back to the sanctuary and get them an owl or a floo call. But there had been nothing. And there was no clock to tell them if he was alright, it had gone up in flames with their childhood home.

“I don’t want him to be dead.” She said to no one and anyone listening. She wanted to tell the world that she missed him, wanted someone ( _anyone)_ to tell her that he was safe or not. She just wanted to know, for sure, one way or another.

She didn’t have time for endless riddles and tests. She needed to be awake and aware for the remaining members of her family. Her father wouldn’t eat unless someone sat with him; Ron and Hermione would run themselves ragged unless someone demanded they sleep and eat; Fleur would work herself into the ground, trying to be everywhere at once, unless someone was there to forcibly take some tasks from her. The twins had left but they might need information or support and she needed to be able to give them whatever they might need.

She stood up, brushing the warm snow from her legs and skirt; she couldn’t afford to be lounging around in sunlight and childhood memories. It was a beautiful dream, but that’s all it was – a dream. And it was time to wake up.

She opened her eyes to the ceiling of her room, moonlight coming in from the open window. She was wrapped in the thick blankets she had taken to sleeping in, the wool socks around her feet uncomfortably hot and probably soaked through with sweat. She felt like she was boiling under the multiple layers of blankets and the sweltering heat of the room.

When she kicked her way out of the heat and tangled blankets, she could see Selene at the window, the three blue lights from her dream back above her head. It was easier to tell her apart from Luna now that she was seeing her in the waking world: her hair was a touch darker and she had broader shoulders.

“Good job, you found it.” She said, not turning around as Ginny shrugged out of her sleeping robe and night clothes – even her underwear was sticking to her uncomfortably, she’d have to take a quick shower to get even a little comfortable.

“Found what exactly?” Ginny responded, grabbing her brush and a towel.

“Your spine.” Selene said smugly. Ginny paused in gathering a new set of panties and another shirt to sleep in. She was naked, sweaty, and tired but she still wanted to march over to the woman and punch her square in the mouth. Selene chuckled as she faded from view, one of the lights leaving the crown of her head to float over to Ginny, where it touched her nose before extinguishing.

She looked out her window, out at the night sky and the stars swirling high above her. There were clouds coming in, tomorrow would be shady in the morning for the merchants at least. Maybe her father would like to go with her to the morning marketplace, would like to get out of the house and into the sunlight. She would buy them breakfast and when they got home she could floo Blaise and ask to speak to Luna.

She missed her girlfriend.

* * *

_The carrions are screeching as they circle, the ground below them rolling as various creatures fight for whatever scraps of flesh remain on the slain soldiers. Wands and guns alike strew the field as blood soaks into the mud. Something in the mess of writhing darkness twists to look elsewhere, and twists into a long misshapen hand with three fingers too many. The long arm shoots forward, the eight fingers clenching around –_

_He’s in Hogwarts rather suddenly, sunlight streaming through the windows, the stone under his bare feet warm. Faceless students walk aimlessly past him and the uniforms he can see are from a plethora of different eras –the sweeping skirts from the 1870’s; the triangular robes from the 1780’s; the sleeveless outer robes from the 1920’s; and the closest circle around him are all wearing the latest uniform._

_When he looks down, he finds that he’s wearing his own mishmash of a uniform – the skirt that belonged to Aife Korasaki, the shirt that belonged to Harry Potter, and the thin and bright yellow outer robes of Trilion Fealyo._

“ _I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here.” Draco says as he comes out of the mass of faceless students. He’s dressed in his own robes and his hair is down. His bangs have grown out so they can be pushed behind his ears, when did that happen?_

“ _I’m nothing if not predictable, at least in these things.” He responds and reaches out to hold Draco’s hand. The hand that curls around Draco’s does not belong to Harry Potter – they’re too small and the skin color is wrong – but he recognizes the deformed ring finger and the mass of raised scaring on the back of it. His name had been Cordilla McGain, a tiny thing with a crooked jaw and an allergy to peanuts._

“ _I feel like you should look more stitched together, like some mismatched Inferi, but you really don’t. It’s strange; I can tell which parts of you are Harry and which parts of you aren’t, but I can only recall a few of the names.” Draco says, running his thumb across the raised scars on the back of his hand. “Didn’t I used to paint these, during the solstices?” Draco asks, sounding unsure._

“ _Yes, you used to use berry dye. It was a kindness.” He answers, remembering the way the scent would linger for hours afterwards._

“ _I miss you, you know. I’ve missed you for months but even now I feel like you’re so far away.” Draco says and for the first time in a long time, Harry feels the echo of Draco’s yearning and aches with it._

“ _I know that feeling.” He says, remembering what it was like to long for Draco, even when they were shouting at each other or across the Great Hall acting like they weren’t trying to get the other’s attention. What it was like to watch Draco say something or do something and ache so suddenly with the want to just skip all the hard parts and go back to the way they were before they’d both died._

_Draco reaches out with his other hand to caress Harry’s cheek and –_

Harry wakes up in the bed he and Draco share. Draco himself is awake and staring at the ceiling next to him but they’re still holding hands at least. He loves this cottage, loves the feeling of safety it gives him, the illusion that the rest of the world doesn’t exist and it’s just them.

“We don’t have to do anything, anymore. We don’t have to fight, if you don’t want to. We can run, go anywhere you want; I won’t care where we are as long as we’re together.” Draco says into the darkness of the room and he turns onto his side to look at Harry seriously. Harry stares at him in shock, not sure where this is coming from but knowing he has to say _something_.

“We can’t – the people –” He starts, feeling the world outside their sanctuary pressing in again, the enormity of his failure pressing against him. Erus must be stopped, must be put down. But every time he tries to think of a way to do it, every failure over the ages comes back into sharp focus and he can’t do anything about it. What can he do against a force of nature such as Erus, when before he couldn’t even -

“Fuck the people!” Draco yells, breaking Harry’s thought process. He sits up and looks down at Harry with an intense look in his eyes. “We’re done enough for the people; we’ve spent centuries doing things for other people, can’t we be selfish for once? I want to be selfish! I want to go back to how things were, just a few years ago, where all I cared about was getting my own way and damn everyone else! I want to run away from all my problems and let someone else deal with them!” He continues and Harry feels his stomach sink and chest tighten.

‘ _He wants to go back to that? But where does that leave_ _ **me**_? _’_

“Let’s run away and let someone else deal with this. We can go to Africa, somewhere we’ve never been, make a house somewhere out of the way.” Draco finishes in a whisper, longing in his voice and Harry closes his eyes against the temptation of that idea.

“And what would we do there?” He asks.

“Whatever we wanted. I could finish my potions apprenticeship, you could teach, if you wanted, or make children’s dolls or sleep all day. I don’t know. We could do whatever we wanted and just forget all of this – let someone else deal with it for once.” Draco says and a large part of Harry wants to do just that.

Why should he be the one that has to solve all the world’s problems? Why can’t he go off with Draco and just live the rest of their lives out in peace, far away from everyone and everything they’d both known? Hasn’t he _tried_ to fix the mistakes of the past, over and over again? Hasn’t he failed at every path, hasn’t he just been making things worse?

Why can’t they just leave and let things fall where they fall?

Something inside of him rolls and writhes at the very thought, but he is _so tired_.

He feels Draco’s fingers on his cheeks and opens his eyes to see him looking down at him with something like pity. It makes his chest tighten and for a moment, he remembers another set of eyes staring at him in pity before telling him that their daughter hadn’t lived through the birth. It knocks the breath out of him, leaves him aching.

“You won’t though, will you?” Draco says and it’s not really a question.

“I feel responsible.” Harry admits and isn’t that the worst part of this whole thing? There is no one left to clean this shit up because no one remembers how. No one has the knowledge to even know where to start to try and fix the massive problem that is Erus – it’s an old problem from an old time and he is all that is left.

Erus will not stop with the northern islands. He will spread, like a plague or a raging fire, until he consumes everything in his path; until there isn’t anything to eat anymore, nothing to pull magic and strength from, until the whole planet is nothing but death and despair. He has swallowed his maker, swallowed the one person who could have commanded him, and it’s in his nature to go and devour until there’s nothing left.

The gods themselves wouldn’t try to stop him until he came for them – what do they care that one world is utterly wiped out? They have millions of others and Erus can’t get to any of them, not once they slam the preferable door in his face.

“Did you help create him?” Draco asks.

“No, of course not! How could you ask that of me?! I tried my best to get him to stop making Erus; I got branded a traitor and thrown in prison for it! Merlin killed my men and turned the whole Empire against me! And then he wouldn’t listen to me when I broke out and tried to help fix his mistake, once it was apparent that it had gone out of his control.” Harry spat out, angry at the accusation.

“Then how are you responsible for it?” Draco cut in; cutting off what would have become a rather loud and angry rant.

“I trained Merlin and allowed him access to the documents that he used to make Erus.” Harry says quietly, looking down at his hands. “I know that doesn’t make me culpable, I get it, but that doesn’t change the way I _feel_. If I had done something different, if I hadn’t saved his life so many times, if I hadn’t spent so many lifetimes not doing anything concrete about Erus’ containment, this might not have happened.”

“This might come as a shock to you, but you’re not actually a god for all that people have taken to calling you one throughout the centuries.” Draco says dryly.

“Oh, fuck you; I don’t think I’m a god.” Harry says and rolls out of bed. He won’t sit here and be talked to like that, not even by Draco.

“Really, so you just think you’re responsible for everyone’s actions and should have been able to handle everything yourself, is that it? Right, that doesn’t sound at all like a god complex to me.” Draco retorts and follows him out, grabbing a robe to throw over his sleep pants.

“It’s not like that. This might come as a shock to you, but I take responsibility for my failures!” He says testily.

“And other people’s failures, too! That’s the problem! You can’t take responsibility for what Merlin did, Harry, it doesn’t work like that! It’s not your job to fix his mistakes, gods be damned! If you want to do this, do it because you _want to_ not because you feel you have to clean up after him. It’s been over a thousand years, you have to accept that fact that doing this will not bring him back and make him the little boy you helped raise!” Draco shouted.

“He’s not at fault here! He didn’t know what he was doing!”

“Oh, come off it, Harry! He was a power hungry bastard that bit off more than he could chew and it got him killed! It got his family almost wiped out of existence but you spared his youngest daughter because that’s who you are! Getting yourself killed, over and over, trying to fix his mistakes isn’t going to bring him back or get him to forgive you for murdering him!” Draco says hotly and Harry wants to punch him. He wants to lash out and scream at him, wants to make him _hurt_ for saying such things.

“It’s not like that.” He says coldly instead of hitting him.

“I may not remember all of it, but I remember this much: You killed him after he went off the rails and ever since you’ve been trying to fix that decision. Trying to excuse him, helping his decedents keep their fortune and power in tact throughout the ages, and trying to keep them alive even at the cost of your own life or mine. He’s dead, Harry, he’s dead and he’s never coming back to you. The last of his children is dead in front of Hogwarts and you can’t bring him back – he’s _gone,_ Harry. He’s gone.” Draco says and Harry is mortified to realize that his eyes are filling with tears.

“I’m aware of that.” Harry says and refuses to let the tears fall. He leaves the room, wanting away from this conversation. He knows that truth better than anyone, he was the one who did the deed after all, who hunted his sons and damned them to death. He was the one who stood over his daughter and almost struck her from the world, almost went through with it and dealt the final blow, but he couldn’t.

Why should she have to pay for her father and brother’s sins? She had no part in their decisions; she was a child, why did she deserve to die?

Draco grabs his arm and spins him around, taking his face in his hands.

“You listen to me, Harry Potter. _This is not your fault._ It’s not your fault any more than its Aife Korasaki’s fault that Tom Riddle was possessed, made into a host, and ripped apart his very soul to try and contain the parasite inside him. That wasn’t your fault. Things happen, bad things, but you can’t stop them from happening just because you have a death god’s favor. This is not your fault, my love.” Draco says, staring at him like his words didn’t just cleave Harry open.

“I have to help them.” Harry whispers, finally. “I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.”

Draco leaned forward _(and down, he’d gotten so tall and Harry hadn’t really noticed)_ and pressed their foreheads together.

“I know you do, I just want you to know that you aren’t _obliged_ to help them. You wouldn’t be who I fell in love with, over and over again, if you did anything other than help them. But, you can’t do this thinking that you have to fix Merlin’s mistakes. It’s time to let him go, Harry. The last of his line is dead; it’s time to let him go.”

He shakes his head and he can’t even muster the mortification over the fact that he can feel tears rolling down his face.

He hadn’t done anything to even try to save Albus, hadn’t tried harder to protect him. He hadn’t done anything all those years ago when his little sister had been killed, when Gellert broke his heart, when his brother abandoned him. He had been so mistrustful of the older man, especially after the muck up regarding Tom and Diamond, and sometimes he used to think that it would be better for everyone if the old meddler was just gone.

But now he was and there was _no one left_. Merlin’s last heir, the last person with his blood flowing through their veins, with a mangled pronunciation of the name he’d given to Merlin’s daughter to spare her life – he was dead.

Merlin’s line was gone.

He hid his face in Draco’s chest, his heart breaking.

* * *

Neville flings fire and curses alike as the monsters rush the line. Next to him, muggles are firing their guns and the bullets seem to have just as much effect as the curses – little to none at all.

“FALL BACK!” Someone yells loud enough to be heard over the noise and something small hits Neville right in the chest, sharp claws digging into his stomach. He punches at it and apparates away as the portkeys around the muggle soldier’s necks react to the password and activate. He reappears some yards behind the line, clutching at his stomach. There’s too much blood coming out of the wound and the material of the gloves on his hands is burning away - just what he’s always wanted: a stomach wound with something acidic making it worse.

He staggers into a tent and a mediwizard rushes up to fix him, spells flying out of their lips faster than Neville can translate them. A cream is rubbed into the wound as it closes up.

Outside, the mines explode. An unholy screeching accompanies it and the sound makes the hair on his arms stand straight up, when he comes out of the tent a few minutes later the line is strewn with body parts, mud, and sludge from the creatures. Some things are still twitching. The stump where his arm should be itches as if in response.

The ground shakes as more of the creatures come over the hill, dark shapes in the night. The new line will form two kilometers away from here and he hears the medical tents collapse into themselves as they’re portkeyed away.

‘ _Fred and George Weasley are geniuses_ ’ He thinks before he vanishes, not wanting to be the last one out of camp. Sunrise is in two hours.

* * *

“They’re going to lose the entire coastline.” Eleanor said grimly. Out of the two of them, her Spanish was better understood – Luna understood and read Spanish better than she spoke it. Luna trailed her eyes over the information gathered around them and silently conceded the point.

“What they need is a way to contain the creatures. Most of the species they’re fighting haven’t been seen, much less killed, since the Roman Empire still ruled these parts.” Commander Ramon said.

“Right now, I’d argue the Dementors are the bigger threat! They’re feasting!” A politician that Luna couldn’t remember the name of said, slamming her hand down on the table in emphasis.

“They’re behind the rush of creatures so I’d say you have that backwards!” Carisa DeLue – another politician, the one who supported sending troops to the French – said.

“Dementors can walk in sunlight.” The politician – Cordez? Berues? – retorted.

“They are both threats, there’s no need to raise our voices at each other.” Eleanor cut in, trying to soothe the ruffled feathers.

“What would you know about threat assessment; you’ve only been in one battle!” Pandeiz said harshly, the general had been against allowed them into these meetings since the beginning. Commander Ramon pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“I know enough to acknowledge that we’re still just talking about the front troops and not the actual threat commanding them!” Eleanor snapped back. Luna sighed and pushed away from the table. They’d go around like this for ages and not get a thing settled.

They’d gotten formal permission to attend these meetings because they were one of them few people to actually see the new Dark Lord. Based on their information and accounts, the news that Voldemort was defeated by the Hollow Lord was spread around.

They called him many things, this new evil: The Hollow Lord, Shadow Foot, The One Who Walks, and Nameless God. She preferred to call him the Hollow Lord, it seemed fitting since Voldemort had to be hollowed out for him to come into the world. Both of them refused to call him a god – even a nameless one – and they corrected anyone they heard call him that in their hearing. They refused to call that thing a god because if it was, they were fucked. There would be no winning and that was unacceptable.

(A small part of her also thought that Harry wouldn’t approve of calling it a god either and if anyone would know what qualifies as a god, it would be Harry. At least, that was Luna’s perspective on things. She missed him so much, hoped he was okay.)

She entered Blaise’s house and found Ginevra drinking coffee with the girls. Her hair had grown, flowing down her back like molten lava and her freckles stood out against her nose and cheeks. She was wearing grey and silver robes with short sleeves that showed off the thick, jagged scar running down her right arm. The ring on her finger seemed to fit her perfectly even though it alone was the only piece of jewelry she wore. The other girl stood to greet her, smiling widely, and Luna nearly bowed her over with a hug.

Ginevra laughed, her arms tight around Luna’s waist, and she was radiating heat. Luna pulled back enough to kiss the other girl, sliding her fingers into Ginevra’s hair and holding on. It had been months since they last saw each other, even longer than that since Luna got to touch her, kiss her, and hold her. Ginevra smelt of the sun, the dry heat of a desert and the earthy scent of sand, and as she opened her mouth under Luna’s there was a hint of mint and apples. She realized in a flash that she was snogging her girlfriend rather passionately in front of two girls who only knew her as a slightly strange and war-concentrated young woman and pulled away abruptly.

“Don’t stop on our account – by all means, continue to forget our existence and tear your girlfriend’s clothes off and have your way with her.” Valerie said dryly.

“Don’t be crass.” Ginevra said and she sounded remarkably like Professor McGonagall just then. It was a strange comparison to make but she thought that at least the older woman would find it just as unsettling.

She wondered, for a moment, how the older woman had died and what had happened to her body. What about her own head of house, squeaky and kind Flitwick? Had they been at the Ministry when it had failed? It seemed like that had been years ago so it was hard to remember.

“Weasley.” Blaise said, stepping into the room and ending the increasingly morbid train of thought. Ginevra straightened her spine and gave the young man her full attention. “I heard about your mother – you have our utmost sympathies.” He continued and inclined his head in respect and sincerity. Ginevra tightened her fingers around Luna’s hand and for a moment Luna remembered her own mother – the softness of her smile, the deep rumble of her laugh, the smell of wind and grass that she carried with her – and could feel the old ache creep up on her. She never wanted anyone to have to feel that, much less someone as wonderful and beautiful as Ginevra, but life was seldom about what she wanted.

“Thank you, it means a lot that you’re thinking of us; my condolences about your father, as well.” Ginevra responded, very formal and grave. The maturity was a change from the stumbling girl that Luna was used to seeing but it wasn’t a bad change. Blaise put a hand over his heart and inclined his head in thanks and acknowledgment.

Luna could see Blaise’s mother behind him, half hidden in the shadows of the hallway. She looked like a wraith in this house, unhappy and trapped. Luna wished she would take the small trinkets she had prepared for the woman as she was full of sadness and the Billiowisps around her fed greedily.

As soon as the pleasantries were done, Luna towed Ginevra to the room she and Eleanor shared. The room was small and with two beds in it, it was a tight fit, but they really only used the room to sleep in so it worked out just fine.

“I have missed you.” Ginevra said, squeezing Luna’s hand and pulling her into a hug. They were the same height and Luna missed the days when she was small enough to snuggle under her girlfriend’s chin.

“You’re warm.” Luna responded, because that was the thing that was sticking out to her as she snuggled into Ginevra’s arms.

“I wanted to tell you something in person but now that you’re in my arms, I really don’t care.” Ginevra said and kissed her again, sliding her hands into Luna’s hair. Luna bit down on Ginevra’s bottom lip, pressing closer and all but purring into the contact.

It was so easy to pull at her girlfriend until they were both on her bed, Ginevra atop her and kissing her over and over until Luna felt a little lightheaded at the attention. She tilted her head as Ginevra’s mouth wandered and she let her hands map out the other girl’s body. Her fingers dug into Ginevra’s back while her legs parted to settle the other girl more comfortably atop her.

She mewled when Ginevra’s teeth grazed against her collarbone, scratching at the girl’s sleeves, trying to paw the robe off through will rather than any actual effort. Ginevra chuckled lowly at her actions, leaning up shrug the robe off, leaving her in a bra and some shorts, before she ducked back down to lick and suck at Luna’s throat.

“Luna, I need to – OH!” The door slammed open as Eleanor came in at a fast clip, her voice loud and unwelcome. Luna groaned and pushed Ginevra off of her, sitting up to talk to their friend.

“What is it?” She asked, aware that she had left talks unfinished – did they come to a conclusion while she was gone?

“Oh, umm, the decision was made. There’s going to be one last legion sent to try and contain the creatures and then the Spanish are warding the entire country. It’s going to be locked down pretty tightly, similar to Egypt and the rest of Africa. They’re going to give a week for anyone who wants to leave the country to get out because once the wards go up they’ll be up for two years. There was also some pretty intensive shouting about resources and the technical aspects of such things – it got pretty ugly – but the decision was made. The Queen also sent in some information – I won’t bore you with it, it was mostly technical things regarding the separation between muggle and magical and food, things of that nature – and I handed over Ron’s parchment spell so the military could keep in touch with the government officials once they’re over there.” Eleanor explained while she steadfastly looked at the wall.

Luna held her hand out for Ginevra’s robe as Eleanor spoke, handing it back to the other girl once it floated into her grasp.

“Have you spoken to Blaise yet?” Luna asked and Eleanor shook her head. Ginevra combed her fingers through her hair once she’s pulled her robe back on and Luna rolled off her bed, displeased with the interruption.

“Wait, before you go to tell him, I do have something to say. I just got…distracted.” Ginevra said seriously and her tone was enough to make Eleanor finally look at them again. “My inheritance finally came to me – turns out I finally passed the test for it. I’m heading to Russia to test a theory I have about some of it.”

“Russia? Last I heard the whole place was in a state of civil unrest. We’ll need a little time to prepare, to think about the best approach to things, especially about what to do if we need to fight. Maybe Blaise will have some advice for us on what to bring monetary-wise…” Eleanor said as she headed out of the room, towards Blaise’s study, and Ginevra blinked after her in shock.

“You thought we’d stay here.” Luna commented quietly.

“It had crossed my mind, yes.” Ginevra admitted, but she reached out for Luna’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “I had hoped you would come with me, but I wasn’t expecting Eleanor to just…be so willing to come along as well.” She continued.

“Do you not want her to come?” Luna asked. Ginevra choked on air and looked mortified for a moment before she spoke again, fast and frantic.

“Of course I want her to come! I have no idea what I’m going to be doing and it’ll be good to have more than just you and me there in case things get dicey. She’s our friend!”

“We should help her explain things to Blaise – she’s right, he might have some ideas we could use or some advice on this type of thing.” Luna said once her girlfriend was done verbally spazzing. She would have to submerge herself in a tub of water tonight, just to see if the water would whisper anything to her.

Ginevra’s hand was warm in her grip the entire walk to Blaise’s study.

* * *

Hermione watched as Ron checked something, brow furrowed as he unrolled a scroll with his wand, his other hand holding a small tapestry up as he double checked something.

“I think if we combine this with a sealing charm it would be enough power to contain at least a thousand of the creatures as they go over it. If someone sears it into either a dry area of land or a road, it should be able to draw enough power from the lay lines.” He said, jotting some notes down to relay to the Goblin Nation at their meeting tonight. They were coordinating a lot of communication between the Egyptian government and the military forces they sent to France.

“I’ll check the arithmancy for it and double check the runes before we take it to the meeting.” Hermione said and Ron hummed, still writing out his notes.

“Are you going to be done in time for the meeting?” Hermione asked and Ron hummed an affirmative.

Hermione left Ron to his notes and maneuvered her way out of their study room to head towards the kitchen. She wanted some tea and since there was still at least an hour to their meeting, she might as well get some now.

It was amusing, in a kind of morbid way, to think that she and Ron were authoring an academic paper together. Even a year ago, this paper would be enough to gain them both at least two separate masteries and published in every major magical journal around the world. It was the result of months of research, hours of failed experiments and false starts, of long sleepless nights, and it was a marvel of alchemy and arithmancy, if she did say so herself. It would need an actual ritual circle and two focus points to enact because it drew power from the kinetic energy of the people who would walk over the ritual circle.

She was incredibly proud of all the work she and Ron had done and she hoped tonight’s meeting would end in success.

She found Mr. Weasley in the kitchen, a mug in his hands as he hummed to himself and stared at a far wall. He didn’t seem to notice her as she got her own mug and got a teabag prepared; waving her wand at the kettle to reheat what water was left in it. She was running low on her blend of tea and made a metal note to go to the market soon. She poured the hot water into her mug, flicking an aguamenti at the kettle to refill it, and almost spilled it when she turned around to find Mr. Weasley looking at her.

“Oh! Uhm, hello, Mr. Weasley.” She stammered and felt her ears burn. She thought he was having a quiet moment to himself, but she must have misread the situation.

“Hello, Hermione.” Mr. Weasley said with a soft smile. “Do you have a few minutes?” He continued and Hermione nodded.

“Yes, of course; Ron is finishing up so I’ve got time.” She said lamely and sat down at the little table in the kitchen. Mr. Weasley sat down across from her and took a sip from his mug. She wondered what kind of tea he enjoyed or if it even was tea – she’d never actually asked him what kind of tea he preferred. Dean and Seamus liked Darjeeling with honey and milk, she remembered that, and she remembered that Neville liked Earl Grey with lemon slices.

What a strange thing to remember about her old friends. She clenched her mug tighter and tried not to let herself wonder if Neville was even alive. The last she heard, he had gone to the front lines but that had been some time ago – she had no way of knowing if he was even still alive or not.

 _Harry would know_ , she thought to herself, certain of it. He always seemed to know everything, so surely he would be able to figure that out himself.

“It occurs to me that we haven’t really had a chance to talk since we came here. I thank you for your patience, considering how hectic and sudden things have been, but I feel we should really talk.” Mr. Weasley said, bringing her back to the present.

“Yes, I’m…well, yes, we haven’t really had the opportunity.” Hermione replied and she wondered if she could drown herself in her tea.

She took a sip.

“Thank you, Hermione, for all that you did with Molly. None of us had to ask you for your help and it made things easier, being able to count on your help and support.” Mr. Weasley said and Hermione nodded dumbly, not sure what to say to that. _I’m sorry_ seemed too redundant and not enough all at once.

“I miss her.” Stumbled out of her mouth and before she could really stop herself, more words were flowing off her tongue and out into the ether. “It seems so unfair of me to miss her when I don’t miss my own mother but there you have it. When I’m having a bad day, I find myself wishing she was still here so I could talk to her about what’s bother me or eat some of her fudge. And that seems so unfair because those last few months; she wasn’t able to do that for me. Whenever I wake up with tangles in my hair, I know how to get them out because of the things she taught me. Whenever I get monthly cramps, I pull out her recipe for the potion to help me just so I can see her handwriting. I miss her more than I miss my own mother and I know that’s awful because she’s not really my mother.”

Mr. Weasley was holding her hand and she wasn’t crying, but only because she had cried all her tears out.

“It’s not awful; you’re not a bad person for your feelings, Hermione. Molly and I had long thought of you as our daughter…in-law.” Mr. Weasley said and Hermione laughed at the belated joke.

“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand back.

“I didn’t really get the chance to say anything when everything with your parents went down. Everything just seemed to happen all at once, so we – I – didn’t get a chance to say anything…” Mr. Weasley trailed off awkwardly and Hermione took a breath.

“Everything did happen all at once and you and Mrs. Weasley did exactly what I needed you to do. You let Ron handle it; you let him take me _home._ ” She said and it still hurt her, not just the rejection and abandonment of her parents but also the fact that she was robbed of her chance to reconnect as an adult with them.

She didn’t have any bodies to bury, didn’t have the concrete knowledge that her parents hadn’t made it out of the United Kingdom before it became an island of death and ruin. She still had no idea if the baby her mother had would have been a girl or a boy – if they made it out, she wouldn't know that child from any other in the world. If they didn't make it out...can you be an older sibling with no younger? At least with Mrs. Weasley, she had a grave here and had found her body – there wasn’t any uncertainty there.

“I’m always here if you need anything, Hermione, even if it’s just someone to talk to. Also, feel free to call me Arthur, you’re an adult now, for all that your majority is still a year away.” Mr. Wea – _Arthur_ said and Hermione nodded, taking her hand back to take another drink of her tea.

* * *

[INSERT BATTLE OF FRANCE HERE]

  * Nevill's fire whip is very helpful against the dementors that come out but they don't die

  * The last stand happens at an old Church by the sea

  * The water makes things very difficult for both sides, which is why it was chosen

  * Fred and George have no way of linking the Egyptian blood magic to Harry, so they have to chose someone there. They chose Neville because of how close he is to Harry astrologically- both of them born within 12 hours of each other, from lines that are connected through blood and marriage, and their magic overlaps in talents just enough that it will hopefully help

  * They had wanted to use it for Erus but that is clearly not going to be an option – they're all going to die in this church, it's very apparent, and the least they can do it make sure this part of the army is stuck behind a barrier that will suck all the creatures dry

  * And so they do

  * They die in a blaze of glory and it seals the creatures – but the Dementors move on and Erus is still coming




Ginny, Luna, and Eleanor go to Russia. Blaise wishes them luck and gives them some supplies.

  * Charlie is there! He's alive and he has DRAGONS with him

  * They're literally protecting the old Russian borders with DRAGONS because god, isn't that fucking cool?? All sorts of different dragons and not just the typical western idea of dragons – serpent-y dragons, wyverns, dragons who can breath lightening, dragons with feathers, D R A G O N S

  * Anyway, Ginny and Charlie are really happy to see each other and then she tells him that their mother is dead and it's awful and there is tears

  * There's a huge ice wall along the continental border that is strewn with the bodies of dark creatures and also corpses because Erus has been making Inferi

  * Ginny's inheritance is the ability to control the Dementors – she takes up the protection of the eastern field with Eleanor being her communication director, essentially. Originally, I was going to just make her the next Tzar, but that will probably be a thing that happens down the line when she's an adult. Her inheritance will eventually come to full fruition with the absorption of Selene, which will also unname her as a Weasley. This allows her to take up an old name, one that will be hers to start anew: Romanova.

  * And I finally get the chance to explain why Ginny being born a girl makes her super powerful, cause I will never be over the fact that JKR made such a big deal of Ginny being the seventh daughter in interviews and in fandom spaces – like conventions and the old forums – and then dropping it completely. In this case, it was because the line of Weasley comes from Anastasia Romanova, who fled from the civil war to Britain and in an attempt to hide herself made herself into a male. She fell in love and married and from then, there was only males born – until Ginny. The first true heir of Anastasia and that would have been normal and all good – but then she was possessed by Tom Riddle who tried to eat her magic and use her soul to come back. And that awakened her inheritance because she's meant to _control_ soul suckers, not be a meal for something like one. And then Harry got more involved with her life and introduced her more to older magic, which made her magical core stronger.

  * Ginny pulls all the dementors to her to help the protection of the eastern field, which really helps prevent more of Europe and the Atlantic islands from being invades and destroyed.




The Americas

  * With Erus rampaging and awakening all the fell and dark things in the world, North and South America also fell under their traditional wards – but for them it was mostly the boarders from when the Inca were still around and that magic powered up the Aztec wards which set off more dormant wards from various other indigenous peoples. So, they've been trying to work out how to communicate with each other much less the rest of the world

  * But they did figure out how to communicate with each other! And then with the rest of the world, which is good because a south american tribe have a ritual circle that might seal Erus away.

  * Spoiler alert, it's gonna work




Harry & Draco

  * They have sex finally. That was not supposed to take so long to get to, but at first Harry had some hangups regarding his background with sex – notably that a lot of his exposure to sex this lifetime was against his will in some form or another, which really fucked him up. And then there was a LITERAL WORLD SHATTERING WAR going on. But, they have sex finally and Draco's memories all come back. It's pretty overwhelming.

  * Harry and Draco have a conversation about Salazar Slytherin finally because apparently Draco has been thinking that Harry was in love with him for literal centuries and just never brought it up.




“It's not my business, really, I wasn't even around and - ”

“Not your business? Who else's business would it be?” Harry cut him off incredulously. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and made an aggravated sound.

“Harry, honey, I know. I've known for centuries about the way you feel about Salazar. It's okay, I don't blame you or even think it was a betrayal or anything like that. I wasn't around, he was, and I could never even dream of trying to dictate who you sought comfort from or even who you loved. It's not my business – I love you now, I've loved you before, I'll love you after this too. I know you. I don't – it's never bothered me. It never will.” Draco said and he felt...

Harry didn't really understand the tangle of grief and love there. There was something so gentle there too, but Draco's words weren't right.

“You thought – by Hecate, for _centuries_? You've thought this for centuries?” Harry said, feeling blown away by the realization. 

“Darling, I was dead. I wouldn't want – I would never want - ” Draco started and Harry cut him off again, crawling back into his lap to grab Draco's face in his hands. Draco's eyes were so startlingly clear and beautiful, but there was something uncertain in them, something clouding them over.

“It would have been easy, loving him.” Harry admitted quietly. He'd never spoken about this before, not to anyone, but it felt good to get this out. Like unrolling a bandage and seeing the closed over skin. “It would have been like gravity; like walking off a step and knowing there was another one close by to catch you. He was wonderful – brilliant and funny, charming, cunning – he loved his family, he loved his friends, he loved animals, especially dangerous ones. He was beautiful and dangerous; sometimes I would look at him and be reminded of you, other times he was nothing like you. I spent decades by his side, from the time we were both children. I watched him fall in love, I watched him marry a women he didn't love to make his parents happy, I debated with him over theories and magic, I helped him design and start Hogwarts. I wasn't there when he died, but I was with Godric when he got the news.

“It would have been like gravity, loving Salazar. But what use is gravity if you can't breathe? What use did I have for anyone else, when I had you? I waited for you, for years, and you never came. When Salazar thought he was in love with some boy in the tower, when we were teenagers, I told him about you, about the way I feel about you, about how sometimes if I thought about you for too long my _bones_ would ache for you, my magic would shudder inside of me, twisting everything inside of me in pain and longing.” Harry pressed his forehead to Draco's, closing his eyes and pushing those memories away. 

“I loved Salazar, he was my family, but I was never _in love_ with him. It's always been you, since that day in the square when we first met. I have loved you, have mourned you, have longed for you, have missed you, have been ecstatic to meet you, have been furious with you, but it's always been _you_.” 

Draco pulled Harry into a kiss, rough and demanding, and it caught him off guard.

  * Hermione and Ron go into the fighting in Europe to meet Erus and his army. Their joint ritual circle works and it was put to use in Egypt and shared with Morocco to better stop the advancing army

  * Blaise gets word to Draco and Harry that Hermione and Ron are going back into the fighting

  * Harry and Draco join and the four of them are deadly and awe-inspiring. Erus does come out finally, Voldemort's corpse rotting around him as a shell. It's kinda like a caterpillar's cocoon around something that rolls and shifts under the peeling skin and viscera, magic and power shining out from between the cracks. Sometimes there's eyes that peak out as well and Erus all around just looks and feels foul and Not Right

  * Erus is defeated via the south american ritual circle that calls upon Thanatos and Hades which is a good thing because Harry is there and he's already a beloved child of theirs. It means not as many people needed to die to get the damn thing to work.

  * As a payment for their help, more Necromancers will be born than ever before, as they're born via their union. Necromancers might be born in twins or triplets and their will be more than one every few generations. It's a big deal because that means the lay lines will also get more power from the recycling of dark and light magic

  * With the end of Erus and the utter destruction left behind means that the separation between magical and non-magical people is no longer a thing. And with so many creatures coming back out of near or complete extinction, many ancient wards popping back up, there's also a good chance that non-magical humans are going to go back to being the minority as they were before Rome.

  * Luna and Ginny get married in Russia and Ginny is formally recognized as the heir of the Romanova clan and she is elected as the leader of foreign affairs which also gives her control of most of the armed forces because of her control of the Dementors, which now call Siberia home.

  * Hermione and Ron get married in several different countries with different ceremonies. They live primarily in the Ottoman Empire so they are close to Bill and Fluer in Egypt (and their father Arthur, who lives with them to help out with their children) and Ginny, Charlie, and Luna in Russia. They both become Masters in ritual circle making and alchemy. They're also involved in various political movements.

  * Blaise adopts the Moon sisters as his heirs, not just his sisters.

  * Harry and Draco spend years in the United Kingdom, going through the swath of bodies. They get an accurate count of victims and the most accurate list of names of the dead from there. Draco is actually the one that suggests reopening Hogwarts as a school for Necromancy.

  * It's eerie to go back to the castle. The ghosts were eaten, which upsets Harry and Draco both because both of them knew many of them in life and death. But, with the sheer amount of death and dead things in the United Kingdom (it's so bad that even years later, the islands are referred to as the Isles of the Dead) Hogwarts is actually a great location for a formal school of necromancy.

  * There's never an answer for if Draco and Harry will continue to just reincarnate indefinitely or if there is something they can do to just stop that process.





End file.
